UNTETHERED: MISSING SCENES 5
by Patcat
Summary: What may be happening.
1. Chapter 1

UNTETHERED: MISSING SCENES 5

He filled the time of his suspension as best he could. Much of it he spent trying to find Donny, but every possible lead turned into a dead end. He couldn't even track down Donny's mother. Admittedly, he had very few leads to her, and it was very clear she was making a determined effort not to be found. And, aside from Bobby, very few people seemed to want to find Donny. The warden and several guards at Tate lost their jobs and received sentences after they confessed. Bobby thought their punishments relative slaps on the wrists, but he also knew mentally ill prisoners and their treatment were not at the top of the list of the concerns of the New York State government. The local judge resigned in disgrace, and there would be no trials, no need for Donny or Bobby's testimony. Bobby expected that the members of the NYPD would want to put equal if not more distance from him, but, to his immense surprise (and he confessed to himself, gratitude and relief) he received a call from several of the department's charities asking him to take his usual role as Santa Claus for the coming holiday season. "You're the best Santa we ever had," one of the callers told him. "And the Chief of D's is a jerk…We're not letting his opinion keep our kids from a good time." He volunteered for several extra turns as Santa, both because he had the time and because the stints kept him from brooding over the suspension. Alex extended her usual invitation for Thanksgiving with her family, but Bobby offered his usual gentle rebuffs and spent the day ladling out food at the homeless shelter near his apartment. Alex kept him up to date with events at Major Case with a daily phone call. After the evening she'd brought him to her home under false pretenses, he steadfastly maintained a physical distance from her, but when he didn't answer several of her calls, Alex left a message threatening him with severe physical trauma if he didn't respond to her. He answered her calls quickly after that warning, but managed to convince her that being seen with him at this point wasn't a good idea.

"Yea," Alex snorted into his ear. "Like I care about what anyone thinks."

But he convinced her that some time away from each other might be beneficial to both of them. Her calls still came, offering him gossip, reminding him to eat, and, he realized with a shock, because she wanted to hear his voice. She helped in the search for Donny as much as she could, but she fought a daily battle with mounds of paperwork.

"At least I get in and out at a decent hour," she told him. "I may actually be ready for the holidays this year."

She encouraged him to attend his sessions with the psychiatrist. "We're in this together…Partners and friends…I want you back…So do a lot of people…Logan and Falacci caught that case with the college students…Just watching them deal with it…Helping with some of the paperwork…" Bobby heard the pain in her voice. "I was glad we missed it."

A sharp pang of guilt struck Bobby.

"It's not your fault, Bobby," Alex said, responding to his silence. "You're certainly not responsible for those kids' deaths…And as for your suspension…the Chief had other options…"

"I…I think his only other option would've been to ask for my badge permanently," Bobby said softly.

"The squad and Ross miss you a lot," Alex said. "People want to know when you'll be back."

"Well," Bobby said. "They'll have to check with the psychiatrist I'm seeing."

He confessed to Alex and himself that he liked—or at least tolerated—the doctor he saw on the department's orders. The department provided him with a list of candidates, and Bobby researched each and finally selected the one least objectionable to him. He headed into the sessions with an unusual resolution. In his previous encounters with psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, and others in the mental health field, Bobby played games. He didn't lie, but he also didn't tell the truth. When he was a child, telling the truth might have sent his mother to an institution or worse, or it might have sent his father and brother to jail. It might have sent Bobby to a foster home or an institution run by the not always benevolent state of New York for more times than the handful he experienced. When he considered his childhood—something he'd been doing a lot of in recent days—Bobby wondered if telling the truth—all of it—might have been a better idea than the telling the stories. By the time he reached the Army, Bobby was an expert at telling doctors what they wanted or needed to hear, and this practice continued as he entered and moved through the NYPD ranks. It helped considerably that Bobby, whether the result of his experiences or his reading or a combination of both, frequently knew more than the professionals assessing him.

For these required sessions, however, Bobby told the truth, or at least as much of it as he could. If he was too dangerous to be on the streets; if he was a threat to civilians and other cops; if he was a weight around his partner's neck, Bobby wanted to know. And if that was the case, he would leave the NYPD, probably leave law enforcement completely. For the first time since he'd drifted into the field when he was in the Army, Bobby considered a life that didn't involve police work. There were other options for him, ones that didn't put a gun in his hands. He could teach—certainly not for the NYPD, but for other places. He could work for another agency. After the Gage debacle, an old associate from his CID days called him to commiserate with Bobby about Declan Gage and let it be known that the FBI would be willing to discuss employment opportunities with him. At the time Bobby dismissed the offer, noting that the FBI authorities would be more difficult to deal with than the NYPD. He also felt a loyalty to the NYPD and Eames and he needed to be near his mother. But the NYPD had shown him little loyalty of late, and his mother was gone. He loved the city of New York, loved it before he know what love or the city were, and love seemed to be the only word to cover what he felt for Alex Eames. But if he could only hurt the things he loved, they would be better off by his absence.

So, he told this psychiatrist what truth he could. Explaining why he ignored regulations and placed himself in danger at Tate was easy; explaining his family ties and the events that led him to Tate was hard. Some things like his complicated relationship with Alex and his questionable parentage refused to emerge, but his experiences in "Heaven" flowed from him. He revealed parts of his life he'd never told anyone to the psychiatrist, who listened quietly, without judgment, and with compassion that grew with each session.

"Look," the doctor said at one point. "We both know that you may know as much if not more about psychology as I do. You certainly have a greater practical understanding and experience of it." The doctor leaned back in his chair. "You know that you're suffering from PTSD—not only from your recent experience, but from things you've never really acknowledged."

Bobby rested his elbows on his knees. His hands dangled loosely. "Yea," he sighed in agreement. He glanced at the psychiatrist. "What…what I need to know is…Am I dangerous? To anyone else? Because if I am…" He stared at the carpet pattern he'd memorized. "I shouldn't be on the job…And we can stop this waste of time…"

A sad smile played at the corners of the doctor's mouth. "I don't think these sessions are a waste of time. You're certainly one of my most interesting and…challenging…patients. And I hope…and believe…they're a benefit to you…As for being a danger…I think that the only person you're a danger to is Robert Goren."

Bobby stared at the carpet for a few moments. "Yea," he finally said. "I think you're right about that."

"Let me be honest about this," the doctor said. "I've evaluated a lot of cops for the NYPD. I can tell when the department wants me to clear…or not clear…someone for duty…"

Bobby shifted in his chair. "And…you sense…that I shouldn't be…"

"Actually," the doctor answered. "I'm getting mixed signals…The Chief of Detectives…well, I think you have some idea how he feels."

Bobby nodded.

"But many of my other contacts," the doctor continued. "They tell me you're the best detective they've ever seen…Not necessarily the greatest cop when it comes to ingratiating himself with the Brass…But a great and ethical one…"

Bobby permitted himself a weary smile.

"The fact is I couldn't in good conscience not recommend that you get back on the job," the doctor said quietly. "Particularly considering some of the others I've sent back…"

Bobby's head shot up as a wave of relief swept over him. Until that moment, he hadn't realized how much he wanted and needed to get back to work. But an equally strong wave of fear and doubt almost immediately followed, and he stared deeper into the carpet's patterns.

The psychiatrist leaned forward. "I have to confess, Mr. Goren…I expected a little more of a positive reaction…although I understand if you have some questions about whether you want to stay with the NYPD…"

Bobby blinked and ran one of his large hands across the back of his neck. "It's just," he said, fighting reasonably well to control his voice. "You have to wonder about someone who stays where he's not wanted…"

"You are wanted…and needed…by a large part of it," the doctor reminded him gently.

"Yea." Faces fluttered through Bobby's mind—Deakins, Ross, the officers and techs who'd helped with his plan to get into Tate, and Alex…Alex. "I…I owe a lot of people…I should…go back…at least for them…And…And if I do really leave…go on to something else…Doing it when I've got a job is a lot better than when I'm on suspension."

"There is a condition," the doctor said. "I want to make sure you're ok…I want to continue to see you."

"It's hard to argue with that," Bobby said after a moment.

Bobby left after that session in a state of doubt and confusion. "What should I do?" he thought. "All these years…I've had this responsibility…And now…" He stopped to stare at his reflection in a store window. "My only responsibility…my loyalty…It's to Alex…Alex…" The man staring back at him from the window bore graying and uncombed curls one week beyond needing a haircut. The face beneath the curls was grey and drawn and showed signs of too little sleep and food in recent days. "Ok," Bobby thought. "I'll talk to Alex…If she wants…thinks…I should come back…"

He entered a branch of his bank. His suspension resulted in a slight cash flow problem and created a need for a redistribution of his funds. Bobby knew that even with the psychiatrist's recommendation and the apparent support of some of the Department he still faced the Chief of Detective's considerable wrath. Once past that, there would be the Department's considerable bureaucracy to deal with. He hated to move more of his money, but had to. The bank was making transitions as easy as possible, but Bobby still needed to sign several documents in person. As he sat signing papers in an assistant manager's office, his back to the main lobby, his cop radar went off. He was somewhat surprised that it was still working and unsure what set it off. It may have been the subtle, sudden fear in the assistant manager or the action he saw at the periphery of his vision. Bobby stood and turned quickly and saw people dropping to the main lobby's floor.

"A robbery," he said softly. "Do you have a way to get people out the back? Has the alarm been pulled?" As he spoke, he pulled out his cell phone and punched Alex's number.

His eyes wide, the assistant manager nodded and moved towards the office's back door.

"Get everyone you can out," Bobby said with quiet authority. He reached for his gun and badge, but his thoughts stopped his hands. "Not there."

"Aren't you coming?" the young manager asked.

Bobby stared out at the lobby. People lay on the floor, which was dotted with discarded cell phones. Under one of the kiosks a woman clutched a small boy who struggled unsuccessfully not to cry.

"No," Bobby said softly and waved the young man through the back door. "Eames," he whispered into his cell phone. "I'm at a bank branch being robbed. It's probably just been called in. At least two armed perps. Lots of potential hostages. They're making people drop their cell phones. The perps are moving towards me. I'm going to leave my cell phone on and drop it and hope…"

"Bobby." Alex's desperate voice came from the phone.

Bobby heard yells and shout from the lobby. "Alex…I'm sorry…Thank you…"

He dropped the phone and kicked it to a corner. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door to the lobby.

END CHAPTER ONE


	2. Chapter 2

Many thanks for the positive reaction to this. Some time with Alex and Ross before the action picks up. By the way, there are rumors that even if the WGA Strike is settled soon, there won't be new LOCI episodes until March. So, write!

CHAPTER TWO

Captain Danny Ross sighed and set the receiver back in his phone's cradle. In the fifteen years he'd known the man he'd never realized that the Chief of Detectives was an ass, and a vindictive one. "He couldn't have been like that when I met him," Ross thought. "I wouldn't have liked a man like that, would I?" He shook his head. His postings kept him removed from some of the worst of the NYPD's politics, and his stunning success as the head of several investigation provided him both with an entry into the Brass' world and protection from it. But his year as the head of Major Case led Danny Ross to conclude that he would have to choose between being part of the Brass and being a good cop and captain. "I suspect," he thought. "That the Chief of D's is wondering why we ever became friends." Ross stared out across the Major Case squad room and saw Alex Eames moving steadily through a pile of paperwork. For the past weeks she'd served her time in an uncertain purgatory with quiet grace. Another cop might have tried to hide in disgrace, or resigned from the force, or at least requested a transfer. Ross had offered her a few days off immediately after their and Bobby Goren's punishments were revealed, but Eames refused to hide until things cooled. She calmly and coolly strode into Major Case the day after the hearing. She faced down the few—surprisingly few, Ross thought—hostile or curious looks firmly and went to work.

Ross didn't know quite what to do with her. There was no one to partner her with, and he was reasonably certain that Eames would resist any attempt to give her more than a temporary partner. There were rumblings from the Chief of Detective's office that an ignorance of Detective Alex Eames would please certain members of the Brass. But there were ripples of support for Eames—and Goren—within the Department, and some of those ripples came from members of the NYPD and city government with equal or more power than the Chief of D's.

Ross sighed. He couldn't defend Eames and Goren's actions, but he did understand their motives. He admired Goren's quiet acceptance of his punishment—Ross sensed that Goren in some way wanted and needed some punishment—and Eames' loyalty to Goren. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Department had failed Goren and forced him into taking his extreme actions, and he knew that the detective had suffered terribly as a result of those actions. Ross was a good and effective leader, and he realized that the conspiracy aiding Goren's infiltration of Tate involved several members of Major Case and extended beyond the squad's boundaries. He knew that a poll of Major Case would reveal a great deal of support for Goren and Eames and that his own siding with the two detectives had finally led to the squad's acceptance of him as its captain. In spite of the extra work it meant for the squad, Ross heard no complaints about his failure to find even a temporary replacement for Goren.

"I'm facing a test," Ross thought. "And it's still going on. The Chief doesn't want Goren back…But he's going to be cleared for duty, and I want him back. He's a great detective…this past year…functioning halfway…he was better than any detective I've seen…And a moral man…The Squad needs him…The NYPD needs him…The city needs him…" Ross glanced at a photo showing him with the Chief of Detectives and other officers. "How the Chief could consider Patrick Copa a better cop…better man…than Goren…" Ross walked behind his desk and sat. "Well, I know which side I'm on…I want Goren back…Although, he may not want to come back…"

A frantic knocking on his door broke in on his thoughts. Ross looked up as a deeply worried Alex Eames rushed in his office. She thrust her cell phone towards him.

"Bob…Goren…" She said tensely. "He's inside a bank branch that's being robbed. He dropped his cell phone and left it on. It doesn't sound good." Her voice trembled with the last words.

Ross reached for his phone. "Give me the details, Alex…Let's get ready to move…"

Alex sat unhappily next to her captain. She held her cell phone to her ear. She hated that she wasn't driving, that she couldn't tell what was happening at the other end of the connection, that Bobby wasn't next to her. For the past few weeks the sensation of not sitting next to Bobby had become familiar, but unwelcome. She missed him, missed his physical presence, his reassuring bulk, his warmth, his graceful, expressive hands, his dark eyes, his soft, warm voice. She'd missed him during the few days he'd taken off after his mother's death, but there was a definite end to that period. This suspension was a different matter; Alex didn't know when or if Bobby would return, whether because of the department or his decision. She managed to trick him into coming to her home once in the suspension's early days, but he resolutely maintained a physical distance from her since then. As she nursed a mug of hot chocolate one evening, Alex realized she was waiting for Bobby's call. She'd convinced him, or at least threatened him enough, to call her on a regular basis, and the time was near for one of those calls.

"It is too late," she thought as she stared at her phone. "He means more to me than…certainly my career…He's the most important thing in my life…Oh, God…Does that mean I love him?"

As Ross weaved in and out of traffic, Alex juggled the cell phone, the radio and her thoughts. None were reassuring. Garbled sounds came from the phone, and anything remotely clear was a frightening blur of angry and scared voices. The radio squawked out a cop's nightmare. There were several heavily armed perpetrators and a large number of hostages. Alex processed all of this information with a growing despair.

"Bobby's not in any shape to deal with this," she thought. "Certainly not physically…I don't care how well he says his counseling is going…He's not over what happened at Tate…and there's so much else…Oh, Bobby…"

"We're almost there," Ross said in a tense but controlled voice. "Your partner will be all right."

For once, Alex wasn't upset by the Captain's reference to Bobby as her partner.

"There's no other cop I'd want in a situation like this," Ross continued. "Even with everything that's happened."

Alex looked at him. "You…you mean that," she said softly.

"I do," Ross answered firmly. "I just wish I could see Goren at work without any complications."

Alex nearly blurted out, "He's amazing," but her fear and discretion held her tongue. "I hope you get the chance," she said.

"We're here," Ross said as they rounded a corner.

The announcement wasn't needed. Police cars and barricades blocked the street. Beyond them was a sea of pulsating red lights and blue uniforms. Ross stopped the car in the middle of the street. A wave of his badge appeased the uniformed cops who rushed toward him and Alex.

"You're the detective with the connection inside?" a sergeant asked as she moved to escort Alex and Ross.

Alex nodded. "I'm afraid we can't hear much…"

They arrived at the hastily assembled command center. Alex dimly recognized the Captain in charge as someone her brother had worked with and liked.

"A detective from Major Case is inside?" the Captain asked Ross.

"Detective First Grade Robert Goren," Ross replied. "But he isn't on the job and doesn't have his gun or badge."

The other Captain blinked and frowned, and anger joined Alex's fear.

"Ignore what you may have heard about him," Ross said. "He's not a loose cannon or a whack job. His methods are unusual, but I can't think of another cop I'd want in there. He won't grandstand or try to play the hero. He'll do everything he can to get the civilians out safely."

"But he won't take care of himself," Alex thought. "Not himself."

END CHAPTER TWO


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

He held his hands up, palms out, as he stepped into the lobby. As much as he ever prayed, he prayed that his pounding heart couldn't be heard and that his body didn't betray the tremors rippling inside it. There were three would-be robbers, all appallingly young and carrying appallingly big guns. One held a rifle to the head of the branch's security guard, a just beyond middle-aged man who lay glassy-eyed on the floor. Bobby felt a pang of sympathy for the man who was probably working a second job to make ends meet. Another young man stood on top of the teller's stations and pointed his rifle down at where the remaining staff undoubtedly cowered. The third man, who looked a little older than the others and seemed to be the leader, stood in the middle of the lobby. A large gym bag was at his feet, and he waved a large rifle.

"Everybody stay down," he yelled. He saw Bobby and leveled the rifle at him. "You! Get down! On the floor!"

Bobby moved slowly and stiffly to his knees. The time at Tate, an old injury, and his desire not to frighten or enrage the robbers made care necessary.

The leader strode over to Bobby. "Where'd you come from? Is there anyone else back there?"

"I came from the assistant manager's office," Bobby said calmly. "There's no one else. Look, I don't have anything on me…" He debated in his head whether to reveal he was a cop, but at the moment he wasn't sure if he was.

The other two perps looked at Bobby with shock. For a moment, silence hung in the room.

"Look," Bobby said, his voice still calm and controlled. "I don't think you want to hurt anyone…"

The leader stared at him.

"I don't think you know what I want," the young man said. His eyes were dark and cold, and the coldness scared Bobby.

"This isn't about robbery," Bobby thought. "He's here for another reason."

The cold eyes bore into Bobby's. "I know you…I've seen you on TV…You're a cop…a detective…"

The other two men jerked in surprise. Hope flickered in some of the hostages' eyes.

"I'm not on the job," Bobby replied evenly. "You can see…I don't have my gun or badge…" He hoped the three men wouldn't notice the lack of noise and traffic in the streets. He tried to study the room. He couldn't see behind the counters, but he guessed there were at least three to four tellers and perhaps two or three other employees there. There were nine hostages including the security guard in the lobby. A young woman with a girl of about three or four, the boy and his mother Bobby saw earlier, a businessman, a woman of about fifty, and an elderly couple lay scattered on the floor. Aside from the security guard, none appeared to be hurt, although all were very frightened.

"C'mon," the young man standing on the teller's cages shouted. "Let's get the money and get out of here…just like you said." He was clearly not expecting and terrified by the turn of events. His features suggested he was a younger relative of the leader.

"Shut up, Rye!" the leader shouted.

"You said we weren't supposed to use names!" the third man shouted. "You said this would be easy…"

"Shut up!" The leader turned again to Bobby; he seemed fascinated by him. "I've seen you," he said again. "You're…you're the cop that solved the Amberleigh case…" His eyes widened. "You got Mark Ford Brady to confess…"

"Great," Bobby thought. "A crime junkie…maybe a serial killer groupie…" He tried not to shudder.

"Kevin," Rye said angrily. "We got to get out of here…"

"Don't use my name!" Kevin screamed.

"You used mine!" Rye shouted back. "I'm not going to be the only one who can be identified!"

In spite of her mother's efforts to calm her, the little girl began to cry.

"Shut her up!" Kevin screamed.

"Kevin," Bobby said in his soft, calm voice. "She's a child…a baby…She doesn't understand…She's afraid…Please…" He rose slowly and stiffly on one knee, ready to rush forward if needed.

The little girl's cries and her mother's efforts to quiet her filled the bank for several hour like minutes.

"Kevin!" the third man shouted. "Outside…more cops!"

Kevin swung to stare out the front door. Bobby couldn't see outside, but he knew the streets outside the bank were probably full of police by now.

"Who tripped the alarm!" Kevin screamed. He rushed to the teller's stations and pointed his rifle through a cage. "We told you to stay away from them!"

Bobby heard faint whimpers from behind the stations. "I called it in," he said. "It was me."

Kevin was on Bobby in seconds. "You!" He jammed his rifle against Bobby's neck.

"Kevin…Don't! They give you the death penalty for killing a cop!" Rye shouted.

The barrel was cold and hard against Bobby's skin. "He's right about that, Kevin," Bobby said evenly. "The death penalty is up in the air in New York…but bank robbery can be a federal crime…If you shoot anyone in this situation…At the very least you'll serve some very hard, long time."

"Kevin," the third man whined. "You said this would be easy money…I'm not up to killing anyone…especially a cop…"

"Shut up, Larry!" Kevin yelled and shoved the gun harder against Bobby.

"He's a cop, Kevin," Rye said. "He'll know what the cops will do…And he'd make a great hostage."

Bobby's mind continued working in spite of his fears. "Rye…He's reasonable…He thinks…He cares…But he's under Kevin's influence…Larry…a lackey…fall guy…"

Kevin glared at Rye. "This is my plan!"

"Kevin," Bobby said softly. "You're bright…You have to know that whatever you've planned, it's useless now…"

Kevin pressed the gun against Bobby's skin hard enough to make a bright, red mark.

Rye jumped down from his post on the teller's stations. "Kevin…We got to do what we can to get out of here…And he's a ticket…" He waved his gun at Bobby.

At the edge of his vision, Bobby saw a flicker of movement behind the tellers' stations. He hoped the tellers and others were sneaking out the back of the bank, but he feared the explosion when the robbers, especially Kevin, noticed their absence. Kevin's true motives flashed across Bobby's mind.

"He wants to make a name for himself," Bobby thought. "If he goes out, to go out in a blaze of glory…"

Bobby blinked. He had to draw the robbers' attention away from the escaping employers. He had to protect the hostages…and the robbers if he could. "I'm last," he thought. He shivered slightly, and desperately hoped that recent events hadn't left him too damaged to deal with this situation.

"Rye…Larry…did Kevin tell you what the plan was?" Bobby asked carefully.

"They know," Kevin growled.

"What's in the bag, Kevin?" Bobby asked as if he were wondering what might be for lunch.

"None of your business, pig," Kevin said with a touch of nervousness.

"It's to carry the money," Larry said confidently.

Rye's eyes widened. "But it's not empty…It's heavy…You could barely carry it…You wouldn't let us touch it…"

"Shut up, Rye!" Kevin yelled.

"He's your brother, Rye," Larry said. "He'll take care of you…"

A sad smile crossed Bobby's face. "Brothers don't always take care of each other," he mused.

Kevin swung his rifle wildly. The barrel caught Bobby's chin and sent him sprawling on the floor. Pain flooded his head. Kevin flipped the rifle in his hands and swung it again, sending the butt into Bobby's side. Bobby moaned and involuntarily curled his body into a ball.

"Kevin!" Larry screamed. "The tellers! The people back there! They got away! They got away!"

Kevin cursed. "Rye! You let 'em go!" Kevin spun wildly, and his eyes found the terrified boy and his mother.

Through a haze of pain Bobby watched Kevin bare down on the woman and child. Bobby's body and mind screamed at him to stay still, but all of his training, all he'd done in his past, and everything he was silenced their warnings. He lurched to his feet and threw his body between Kevin and the hostages.

"Kevin," he gasped, and discovered that there was blood in his mouth. "Please…Whatever you've got planned…Whatever reason…It doesn't involve these people…They're innocents…Please…" He wavered on his feet.

Kevin swung the gun again, and Bobby crumbled to the floor. He fought the darkness that circled him. "Stay…stay awake…" he thought. "I have to…have to…"

END CHAPTER THREE


	4. Chapter 4

Again, thanks for the kind reviews so many people have sent. I also appreciate being named a favorite author (g)

CHAPTER FOUR

The sharp, bright ring of a phone pierced the darkness around his mind. The room became very quiet, with the robbers and hostages staring at the phone on the receptionist's desk. There was a faint whimper from the little girl as Bobby won his battle for consciousness and managed to sit up.

"That's the cops," he said softly.

Rye stepped towards the phone.

"No," Kevin said harshly. "Leave it, Rye."

"Kevin, it's the only chance we got of getting out of here alive," Rye pleaded. "We gotta…"

Kevin scanned the bank.

"He thinks he's in control," Bobby thought. "And he doesn't realize he's never had control…"

"Kevin," Bobby said softly. "Let me answer the phone…I can talk to them…"

The phone's constant ringing began to fray nerves.

"For God's sake, Kevin! Let somebody answer it!" Larry screamed.

"All right!" Kevin pointed his gun at Bobby. "Answer it. But don't tell them anything." He shifted the gun to cover several of the hostages. "You say the wrong thing…Someone gets hurt…"

Bobby nodded as he struggled to his feet. "I understand. What do you want me to say…"

"Tell them…tell them my name is Kevin Maguire…So they'll know who they're dealing with…"

Rye and Larry stared at Kevin in shock.

"You…you told us…no names…" Rye said.

"Plans have changed!" Kevin said. "Tell them…I want…money…a plane…to take me…us…"

The phone rang relentlessly. Bobby knew that Kevin had no plan, that he was making things up as he went along. The young man wasn't stupid; he was smart enough to know that the NYPD wouldn't and couldn't provide a plane. From the look on Rye's face, Bobby also knew that the younger Maguire brother knew that too. Larry, on the other hand, had a look of hungry pleasure on his face.

"Where we going, Kev? An island…in the Caribbean…lots of sun…girls…" Larry said eagerly.

The phone kept ringing.

"They'll keep calling, Kevin," Bobby said. It hurt to speak. His ribs hurt when he breathed, and his upper lip felt thick and heavy. "You…you should have a list of what you want…And…" Bobby hesitated. It might be too soon to press Kevin for a concession. Fear and doubt rose in his mind.

"It's been too long since I did this," Bobby thought. "If I was ever good at it…If I read things wrong…" He was painfully aware of the hostage's eyes on him.

"What?" Rye asked.

Kevin glared at but didn't correct his brother.

Bobby took a deep breath. "You need to make a gesture…of good faith…to show you're not the bad guys here…that…that you're like those gangsters who help people…like Robin Hood…"

Larry looked at him blankly, but Rye and Kevin's eyes flickered in recognition.

"You have to show that," Bobby continued. "Give a sign."

The idea appealed to Kevin. "Right…but what…"

"Let a hostage go," Bobby said softly.

Kevin considered the idea. "Who?"

"The kids…"

Kevin shook his head. "No way…The kids are too valuable…"

Bobby felt dizzy, and leaned against one of the counters.

"You? Because you can't take a little roughing up?" Kevin sneered. Larry laughed unpleasantly.

Bobby recovered. He scanned the hostages, his eyes finding the security guard. The man was sweating heavily and very pale. He ignored Kevin's taunt. "The guard…or one of the older people…"

"Why them?" Kevin asked.

"You know why, Kevin," Bobby said evenly. "The guard is hurt…The older people may have medical conditions…You said the kids can't leave…"

Kevin thought for a moment. "All right…the guard can go…"

The guard rose unsteadily with Bobby's help. He appeared ready to argue against leaving until he looked in Bobby's eyes. Bobby subtly shook his head, and the guard's acquiescence told of the man's pain.

"Get going! Get out!" Kevin yelled.

The guard stumbled, and Kevin grew increasingly agitated at his slow progress. "You!" He pointed his gun at the businessman. "You go with him and help him!"

"There's others," the man said. "You should…"

"Go with him!" Kevin insisted. "Or you'll wish you had…"

The man, a desperate look in his eyes, glanced at Bobby. The man clearly didn't want to take the place of another hostage, but was obviously very afraid.

"He'll go with the guard," Bobby said softly, offering the business man absolution. "He's the best person to help him."

Kevin rushed to Bobby and slammed the rifle against his side. Bobby reeled and staggered, but caught himself on the counter.

"He's not in charge here!" Kevin shouted. "I am! Pay attention to me! Get out! Get out!"

"Kevin," Bobby gasped. "They…they need something…to let the cops know…they're coming out…"

"Here." The businessman pulled out a white handkerchief. "I'll wave this…" He addressed Kevin.

His words appeased Kevin. "All right…Get out…But be sure to get my name right…"

The man moved to the guard's side and helped him out the door. He waved the white cloth, and glanced back at Kevin and Bobby.

"Get out!" Kevin said, but the two men didn't move because of the young man's words. They reluctantly left because of Bobby's subtle nod.

Bobby felt a small bubble of relief. Two hostages, including one who may have been badly hurt, were out. They could tell the assembled cops how many perps and hostages were in the bank. If they were perceptive—and Bobby thought both men were—they could give the cops some idea of the dynamics among the young men. He clung to the hope that Alex might be among the cops, and that she might be listening to his cell phone.

"If she's there," Bobby thought. "Maybe…they didn't let her…Maybe she didn't want to…"

A shadow fell over Bobby. He looked up at Kevin Maguire.

"What's going to happen?" Kevin asked coldly.

Bobby straightened up slowly.

"They…they'll call again," Bobby said. "And they'll pay attention…Because you made the first move…"

The phone rang again.

"Answer it," Kevin said.

Bobby lurched to the phone. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell them." Kevin smiled at his brother and Larry. "Tell them I'm Kevin Maguire. A man to be respected…They have to talk to me…Tell them to give you a number to call when I'm ready to make my demands."

"All right." Bobby picked up the receiver. "Goren," he said, keeping one eye on Kevin.

"Detective Goren…This is Captain George Fusco…The two hostages are ok…They've given us information."

"Good," Bobby said.

"We still have the connection to your cell phone and can hear a little…"

"Stop talking," Kevin ordered. "Tell him."

"Captain…I'm sorry…I have to tell you…The leader…the guy who planned this…is Kevin Maguire. He wants a number to call you back when he's ready…" Bobby hoped Fusco would understand the need to give Kevin control.

"Of course," Fusco answered after a beat. "Let him know we appreciate him giving us the two hostages. The number is 212-555-7474."

"212-555-7474. Got it," Bobby said.

"We'll call again in fifteen minutes if we haven't heard from you. Hang in there, Detective," Fusco said.

"So," Bobby thought. "I'm still a detective…"

"Yes, Sir," Bobby answered.

"Hang up!" Kevin yelled.

Bobby obeyed.

"What were you talking about?" Kevin asked.

Bobby leaned heavily on the desk. "The Captain…You've got the attention of a Captain, Kevin…wanted me to tell you…He's very grateful you released the hostages…They're all right…He wanted you to know he'll call again if he doesn't hear from you in fifteen minutes…"

Kevin cursed and screamed. "I'm the one who'll do the calling!"

The little girl, who had been remarkably quiet for several minutes, yowled. Her mother desperately tried to calm her.

"Shut that kid up!" Kevin shouted and waved his gun wildly.

Bobby staggered towards Kevin. "Please…She's a scared little girl…"

"Be quiet, you stupid pig!" Larry, his nerves fraying, jumped forward and slammed his rifle butt against Bobby's back. Bobby fell forward to smack his head against Kevin's gun. He fell into pain and darkness.

END CHAPTER 4


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Ringing stabbed the edges of his mind. He was so tired. He just wanted to rest, to sleep, but angry voices joined the ringing in assaulting his brain. Bobby blinked, and pain filled him. He desperately tried to focus. Through a haze he saw the frightened eyes of several of the hostages. They had been moved to a corner of the lobby farthest from the front door. The boy and girl were huddled against their mothers; the elderly couple held each other tightly; and the single older woman tried to help comfort the children. The older man looked very pale, and sweat covered the boy's mother's face. Bobby didn't like how they looked. He took a deep breath and slowly tried to push his body into a sitting position. The cold, hard steel of a rifle barrel stopped him.

"Get up!" Kevin shouted.

"Ok…ok…" Bobby said thickly. His mouth had blood in it, and Bobby involuntarily swallowed it. He felt horribly sick, and for a moment he was on his hands and knees. The phone kept ringing and increased the throbbing in his head.

"Get up!" Kevin yelled again.

"Kevin," Rye said. "He's hurt…Give the guy a break…He's our best chance of getting out of here…"

Kevin glared at his younger brother. "All right…Let's use him…Larry…Get over here! Rye…Watch them!" He waved his gun over the hostages.

Larry moved eagerly to obey Kevin, but Rye moved slowly to his post.

"Help me get him up!" Kevin said to Larry.

The two men yanked Bobby, who struggled not to pass out, to his feet.

"Please," Bobby gasped. "Just…tell me what you want me to do…"

"The door…Larry, hold the gun on him," Kevin ordered.

Larry jammed his gun's barrel under Bobby's chin. He and Kevin half dragged, half shoved Bobby to the front door. Kevin pushed the door open, and Larry pushed Bobby through it. The frigid air took Bobby's breath away, and he struggled to breathe for several moments. His coat was in the assistant manager's office, and the cold sent tiny, sharp needles into his skin. The bright sun and the pulsating lights of the emergency vehicles pounded his eyes. The cold air seemed to freeze the beads of sweat on his skin. He wavered, and Larry pressed his gun against his back.

"Stand up, you bastard," Larry mumbled. "Or I'll blow a hole in you…"

"Bastard," Bobby thought. "He doesn't know how right he might be…" He looked across the street at the assembled cops, searching for a small, blonde figure. He glimpsed Alex, pressed near the front and gripping one of the barricades. "She doesn't have her hat on," Bobby thought. "She'll get cold…"

"Hey!" Kevin screamed from inside the bank. "This is Kevin Maguire! I'm in charge here! Stop calling or we'll blow this cop's head off!"

Larry grinned evilly and jammed the rifle barrel hard enough against Bobby's head to make the detective stumble.

Across the street, Captain Fusco ordered the phone call ended. Alex looked over at the hastily set up table where a flock of technicians hovered over her cell phone and fought to increase and clear the signal from Bobby's phone. She stared back at the bank's front door. Even from a distance, Bobby looked terrible. Alex thought she saw blood on his face and head, and he staggered, his body held up partially by the gun jammed against his body. She turned to Captain Ross, who surveyed the scene through a pair of binoculars.

"Captain…How does he look?" she asked, blaming the shivers of her body on the frigid wind.

Ross lowered the binoculars. "He…He's looked better," he said carefully. "It looks like he's been knocked around, just like the two guys said."

Alex winced.

"He's taking blows meant for the hostages," Ross said softly.

"Of course he is," Alex said with a mix of frustration and admiration. "He's Bobby."

Captain Fusco turned to her. "He's doing everything right, Eames. He got two hostages out, and we've got some information about what's going on. Detective Goren is our ace in the hole."

The Chief of Detectives appeared over Fusco's shoulder. "Goren? Goren is the cop on the inside?"

"Yes, Chief," Ross said evenly.

"And he's doing a great job," Fusco added. Ross had informed Fusco of the Chief of D's hostile opinion regarding Detective Robert Goren, but Fusco had also seen an abbreviated version of Goren's file. Ross supported Goren, and Fusco was a friend of Jimmy Deakins who felt the former Major Case Captain had been treated badly by the Brass, including the Chief of Detectives. Jimmy Deakins had told Fusco several stories about the amazing and occasionally frustrating Goren and Eames, and Fusco gave Deakins, Ross, and that file far more credence than the Chief of Detectives.

"They're going back in," Ross said tensely. He raised the binoculars to get a last look at Bobby.

As soon as they were back inside the bank, Larry brutally shoved Bobby, who stumbled, fell, and rolled up against the gym bag. His blood froze. The bag wasn't empty. It was full of something hard and metallic.

"Damn it, Larry!" Kevin fumed. "Be careful!" He kicked at Bobby, who groaned and rolled away from the blow.

Rye, with growing horror, looked at his brother. "Kevin, what's in the bag?"

Kevin glared at him. "You'll find out soon enough, Rye," he said triumphantly. "Everyone will find out."

Bobby struggled to raise his body, but his arms trembled and he fell to the floor.

"Take it easy, son," the older man said gently. Bobby felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're doing everything you can."

The three perps were in the middle of a heated argument. Rye was clearly deeply troubled by what the bag might hold. Larry was confused, and Kevin growing angrier at being challenged.

Bobby took a deep breath and, with the older man's help, managed to sit up. "Is…is everyone all right?" he whispered.

"The little girl," the man's wife said. "She has asthma…Her mother is worried…"

"And the lady," the man nodded in the direction of the white haired woman. "She has blood pressure problems."

Bobby, his heart moving towards his throat, watched the woman try to help comfort the little girl.

"The little boy," the man continued. "Is very worried about his mother…But I don't know why."

Bobby studied the woman. She was very pale and perspiring heavily.

"And Sam here." The woman gave Sam's arm a gentle squeeze. "Has some heart trouble…"

The man looked at his wife with a mix of love and concern. "Well, Ruth here has her troubles…This cold floor isn't good for her hip…"

Ruth tenderly touched Bobby's shoulder. "But I don't think any of us are hurting as much as you…"

"I…I'm ok," Bobby whispered. He leaned back against the counter. A shadow fell over him.

"What's going on?" Kevin asked harshly.

The man started to reply, and Kevin raised his gun. Bobby spoke. "We're not conspiring…Planning anything…Just talking…"

Kevin glared at him.

Rye looked at the hostages. "Are…are all of you ok?"

"Damn it, Rye," Kevin said. "Does your heart have to bleed for everyone?"

Rye's face flushed. "Just remember what we talked about, Kevin," he answered. He was clearly angry at his brother but unable to challenge him.

"Yea," Kevin growled. "You remember too." He swung his gun away from the hostages, and Bobby took a ragged breath.

"You watch them," Kevin ordered Rye. "Larry and I are gonna check the back."

Rye stood uncomfortably as Larry and Kevin left the room. Bobby looked down the row of hostages at the boy and his mother. The woman looked paler; the boy more frightened.

"Rye," Bobby said cautiously.

The young man raised his gun slightly. "Don't talk to me. Kevin's in charge."

"I…I know," Bobby said. "I just need to talk to them." He tilted his head towards the boy and his mother. "Make sure they're ok."

Rye gnawed his lip. "Ok," he finally said. "But make it quick."

Bobby dragged his body across the floor. "I get out of this," he thought. "I'm going to take a vacation…Some place quiet…Warm…"

The boy looked up at him with great, dark, scared eyes. "Can you help my mom? She has diabetes…"

Bobby touched the woman's neck and felt her pulse. It was fast, but strong. "I'll try," he said. "My name is Bobby."

"I'm Beverly Mitchell," the woman said. "And this is Ben." She smiled wearily. "I did a stupid thing…I left my bag with my insulin in the car…I thought we'd be in and out…"

"You need it," Bobby said.

"Yea, she does," Ben said. "You're really a policeman?"

"A good question," Bobby thought.

"Yea, Ben…I'm a policeman," Bobby answered, not willing to confuse a scared boy with NYPD politics. "But I don't have my gun…"

"You're hurt," Ben said.

"It looks worse than it is," Bobby said with a confidence he didn't feel.

They heard Larry and Kevin coming from the back of the bank.

"Get back over here," Rye said anxiously. "Or Kevin…"

"Ok," Bobby said. "I'll do everything I can, Ben." He crawled painfully back to sit by the Sam and Ruth.

Kevin appeared in the lobby. He strode in front of Bobby. "Tell me what they're planning," he demanded.

"They're worried about the hostages…They won't attack…Try anything that would hurt them…" Bobby said.

"What about you? Another cop?"

A bitter smile played on Bobby's mouth. "I'm the least important person here."

"You got that right," Kevin sneered.

"Kevin!" Larry shouted from a back office. "We're on TV!"

"Rye…Watch them!" Kevin rushed to join Larry.

"That's what this is about, isn't it, Rye?" Bobby asked as soon as Kevin disappeared. "Kevin wants attention."

Rye gnawed his lip again. "It was supposed to be easy…Kevin said it'd take a few minutes…No one would get hurt…"

"But he picked a time when there would be a crowd in the bank," Bobby said gently. "And he didn't move that quickly to get out of here." Bobby hesitated. He had to reach Rye, but he didn't want to scare the hostages. "And what's in that bag, Rye?"

"He…he's my brother," Rye said. He stared at the bag.

"And he's betrayed you before," Bobby said. "I…I know something about that…My brother…" He slowly shook his head. "Hasn't been the best thing in my life."

Rye looked at Bobby, then the hostages, and then at the horde of cops in the street.

"Rye," Bobby said, his voice still calm and clear. "I can tell Kevin doesn't tell you the truth…or at least all of it…"

"Damn it, Kevin," Rye said in despair.

"He's messed things up before," Bobby said thoughtfully. He might have been explaining a point to Alex or Ross. "But this…" He waved a hand and tried not to wince at the pain.

Rye started to pace.

"You have to make a decision, Rye. Loyalty…loyalty to family…It's a great thing…But if it isn't returned." Bobby struggled against rising emotions. "Of if the person doesn't deserve the loyalty…You…You have to do what's right…Rye…You have to make a choice."

Rye stopped pacing. "I…I don't want Kevin to get hurt…He…He's still my brother…"

"The longer this goes on," Bobby said. "The greater the chance he'll get hurt…You know that, Rye."

The little girl whimpered and gasped. Her mother looked up at Rye. "Please," she pleaded. "She's sick…I left her medicine in the car…"

"And my Mom," Ben said bravely.

Rye stared at the back of the bank for several agonizing minutes. "Ok…ok…" he finally said. He moved quickly. "You and your daughter…You go first…"

The woman rose quickly. The little girl, aware of her mother's hope, grew quiet. "Thank you, thank you," the woman said to Rye. She turned to Bobby. "And you…"

"Go," Rye said. "As fast and quiet as you can…"

As the woman and child slipped through the door, Rye turned to the older people. "You three next…"

As they stood, the trio each gently touched Bobby on the shoulder. They moved stiffly but as quickly as they could. Rye glanced anxiously at the back of the bank as they left.

"All right," he said in a tight voice. "You and your mom."

Ben rose and helped his mother to her feet. She trembled, and Rye reached out to steady her.

"You follow me to the door, kid," he said. "And I'll help your mom."

Ben looked at Bobby. "He'll be ok?"

"I'll do what I can," Rye said.

"Thank you," Ben whispered and followed Rye and his mother to the door.

Bobby closed his eyes and leaned against the counter. "They're not out yet," he thought.

Rye opened the door and guided Mrs. Mitchell through it. A whoop of joy broke the quiet as Larry and Kevin emerged from the back of the bank.

END CHAPTER FIVE


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks again for the many kind reviews and for adding this story to your alerts and favorites. It's very gratifying.

CHAPTER SIX

"It's not good," one of the techs muttered as he worked with Alex's cell phone. "What we can hear…The third guy is a loose cannon…"

The Chief of Detectives hovered over the response team. "What are you going to do?" he demanded.

"Letting Goren talk to them has worked so far," Ross said softly.

Before the Chief could respond, Captain Fusco said quietly. "Can't argue with the results so far…Goren has gotten two of the hostages out…Calmed the situation…"

"Look!" a cop yelled. "Someone's coming out…"

Alex's heart flew into her throat. She wasn't sure she could bear seeing an injured Bobby again.

"Wait," Fusco commanded. "It may be another hostage…"

A young woman clutching a small child in her arms rushed from the bank. Before Fusco's orders to help them had left his mouth several cops surrounded the mother and daughter and hustled them to safety.

"More! More are coming out!" several cops shouted.

The older people, moving stiffly but as quickly as they could, emerged. Again, several heavily armored cops surrounded and rushed them to safety. Another young woman stumbled from the bank, but turned and started to go back in.

"No, no," Alex whispered, her words echoed by other cops. More officers rushed to the woman and pulled her to safety. Alex and Ross moved quickly to where the former hostages were being treated. A buzz of voices greeted them.

"The policeman…the big detective…He saved us…He talked one of them into letting us go…They hurt him…He didn't think about himself…"

Alex's heart sank as she heard the voices' descriptions of Bobby' injuries. The cries of the young woman shattered the air.

"Ben…My son…Ben…He's still in there!"

"Damn!" Ross said. "Goren and a kid are still in there."

"People!" Fusco called over his radio. "We've got this far…Detective Goren has gotten us this far…He got most of the hostages out…We owe him…We need to protect this boy…Let's get 'em out!"

"Captain," one of the techs said tensely. "From what we can tell, it's bad in there…Kevin Maguire seems to have lost control…"

The bank's door banged open, and Rye Maguire, waving his empty hands wildly, ran out. "Don't shoot!" he screamed. "Don't shoot!"

"It's great, Kevin!" Larry laughed. "Everyone knows who we are!"

"They'll know more…respect us…before I'm done…" Kevin halted and stared. "Rye…Rye! Whatya doing?"

Bobby staggered to his feet as quickly as his battered body allowed. Rye shoved Mrs. Mitchell through the front door. Her glazed eyes briefly met her son's, but a raging Kevin rushed forward to grab the boy. As Rye propelled the woman through the front door, Kevin threw Ben back into the lobby. Bobby stepped into the boy's path and kept him from crashing into a counter. The two fell in a tangled heap on the floor. Bobby gasped in pain, but managed to wrap his body around Ben. For several terrible moments Bobby waited for the gunshots or blows he knew were coming.

When they didn't come, Bobby tentatively raised his head. An astonished Kevin stared at Rye. Larry looked around the lobby in confusion. Beyond the three young men, Bobby saw several officers outside the bank hustling Beverly Mitchell to safety.

"Your Mom is ok," he whispered to Ben. "She was trying to get back to you, but the cops got to her…She'll be all right…They'll take care of her…"

Ben shivered and clung tightly to Bobby.

"Kevin," Rye said. "I'm sorry…but I couldn't let you hurt anyone…"

"Rye…What've you done?" For the moment, Kevin was more shocked than angry. Bobby wondered if this was the first time Rye had challenged his brother.

"Kevin…It's not worth it," Rye said. "To hurt people…Just to be famous…"

Larry was increasingly confused and angry, and Bobby sensed that he was becoming more of a threat than Kevin. "Kevin," Larry asked. "What's going on? What's Rye talking about? We're going to get out of here, right? With the money?"

"Kevin," Bobby said softly. "Your brother is trying to protect you." It was hard for Bobby to speak. Ben clung tightly to him, and pain choked him. "You're a bright guy, Kevin…You know that…that things are over…"

Kevin stared out the windows at the assembly of cops. "I…I wanted…"

"People to know…to respect you." Bobby gently pulled away from Ben, but kept one hand on the boy's shoulder. "They will, Kevin…If you end this now…You'll be the man who let the hostages go…Who showed mercy…You won't get hurt…Your brother won't get hurt…"

"C'mon, Kevin," Rye said. "For once…Do the right thing…"

Larry slammed a fist on one of the counters. "Kevin…You aren't buying this…You told me this would be easy money…Or don't I matter…"

"Shut up, Larry," Kevin muttered.

"Why you getting on me?" Larry growled. "Rye's the one who screwed up…He let the hostages go…"

"Because I care about you, Kevin," Rye pleaded. "If they get a hold of you…"

Kevin began to pace.

"Damn it, Kevin!" Larry shouted. "Are you listening to this? We've still got the kid…"

Bobby moved without thinking in front of Ben.

"The cop…" Larry continued. "We can still get out of here with the money."

"Kevin," Bobby said softly. "Who are you going to believe? Your brother…who's stayed with you…supported you…Who went into this in spite of his questions…"

"Kevin!" Larry screamed. "Look at me! I'm here! I'm with you!"

Kevin ceased pacing. "Shut up, shut up, shut up…" he muttered. "Everyone shut up…"

"The bag, Kevin…What's in it?" Larry asked eagerly. He strode toward the bag. "Is it our ticket out?"

"Stay away from the bag, Larry!" Kevin said. "That…that was supposed to be insurance…" He turned to Rye. "If something went wrong…"

"Look around, Kevin," Larry said angrily. "I'd say things have gone pretty wrong." He stepped closer to the bag.

"I told you, Larry…Stay away from the bag…" Kevin raised his gun.

"Kevin…Don't…Just tell us what's in the bag…" Rye pleaded. He also raised his gun, but Bobby wasn't certain where he intended to point it.

"This cop has you confused," Larry said. "Let's use him and the kid…" He pointed his gun at Bobby and Ben.

Bobby stood uncertainly in front of Ben. "I've screwed up," he thought. "I was so wrapped up with Kevin and Rye…I let Larry off my radar…Stop it…Stop it…Concentrate…Help Ben…"

"Larry," Bobby said. "Please…This kid…He's an innocent…He has nothing to do…"

"Shut up!" Larry shouted. "The kid means nothing but a way out to me!"

"You're not in charge, Larry!" Kevin yelled. He swung his gun towards Larry. "I am!"

Rye raised his gun to cover Larry. "Don't, Larry…"

"Guys…Please," Bobby said, but only Rye heard him.

"Let's find out what's in that precious bag!" Larry pointed his gun at the bag.

Bobby lurched to his feet, grabbed Ben, and shoved the boy in front of him.

Rye dropped his gun and rushed to the front door. "Don't shoot!" he screamed as he ran through the door. "Don't shoot!"

"No!" Kevin screamed.

Larry fired.

The explosion threw Bobby forward, and he caught Ben's body. Heat and pain and noise flooded Bobby as he wrapped his body around the boy.

The explosion swallowed Rye's desperate cries and threw the young man down on the street. Even the most hardened of the cops flinched and ducked. After a few seconds, Alex raised her head and stared at the devastated building.

"Bobby…" she whispered.

END CHAPTER SIX


	7. Chapter 7

Again, thanks for the kind reviews.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Even before she recovered from the blast's shock, Alex ran towards the devastated building. In spite of her size and the heels she wore she led the phalanx of cops aimed at the same destination, but several burly firemen blocked their way.

"No, honey…You can't…" one said to her.

"I'm Detective First Grade Alex Eames!" she yelled. "And my partner is in there!"

The fireman's face softened. "I understand, Detective…But it's too dangerous…Just give us a few minutes…We'll get your partner out…"

"Alex…" Ross appeared behind her. "Let them do their job." He tentatively placed a comforting and restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Ben! My son! My boy! Ben!" Mrs. Mitchell's wails pierced the air.

Uniformed cops and firemen surrounded Rye Maguire, who lay flat on the street. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" he cried. "Kevin…Kevin…I didn't know…Oh, God…I'm so sorry…"

Alex turned to look at Ross. Behind him she saw the other hostages, stunned and frightened, staring at the bank's remains. The older man shook off the hands of the EMTs treating him and rushed to the first official looking person he saw, which was the Chief of Detectives.

"That detective," the older man shouted. Alex and others could hear him over the scene's chaos. "He saved us. He took terrible beatings for us. You have to save him!"

"He saved my baby…He saved me," the little girl's mother cried from her perch next to the stretcher her daughter occupied.

"He could've left," the assistant bank manager joined the chorus. "He…he went right into the lobby…" The young man stared at his feet. "He's a very brave man…"

If she hadn't been so worried about Bobby, Alex would have enjoyed the uncomfortable confusion appearing on the Chief's face. But all of her attention focused on the bank's remains, where dozens of firemen scrambled over the twisted metal and crushed stone.

"Please," Alex prayed. "Please help him…He's a good man…He tries to do the right thing…He's had so much…Please…"

"We've found someone!" a fireman yelled. Several rescue workers hurried to a spot in the debris. Alex's heart fell as she saw the grim looks and postures of the firemen and EMTs. One shook his head sadly. "Two bodies," another said.

"Hey!" The cry came from the opposite end of the destroyed building. "We've got live people over here!"

It hurt. It hurt so much. He was so thirsty. He couldn't move. For several terrible seconds Bobby thought he was still in that horrible room at Tate.

"Please…Please…I'm scared…Please…Bobby…Wake up…" Ben's scared voice broke through the fog in Bobby's mind. He realized they were trapped beneath a pile of rubble. Bobby's body was wrapped around Ben's, and Bobby hoped he'd managed to shield the boy from some damage.

"Ben…" Bobby spoke in a hoarse whisper, and saying the name took much of his dwindling strength.

"Bobby," Ben said shakily. "Are…are you all right?"

In spite of his pain and fear, Bobby felt enormously grateful for Ben's concern. The boy sounded all right. Bobby gathered his strength.

"Are you all right?"

"I…I think so," Ben answered. "My head hurts a little…There's like a ringing in my ears…"

"That…that's probably from the explosion…Does anything else hurt?"

"No…And I can move my arms and legs…You're…you're a little heavy on me," Ben said.

"Sorry…about that," Bobby apologized. His body sprawled over Ben, who faced away from Bobby. "I'll try to move a little."

Bobby shifted slightly and was rewarded with horrible pain.

"Bobby…Bobby…Please…Please…Stay awake…Please…" Ben's frightened voice again reached through the pain. Ben moved, and Bobby cried out.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry," Ben cried. "Please…I didn't mean…"

"Ben…Please…Don't move…" Bobby sucked in a painful breath. "It…my arm…I think it might be broken."

Ben froze.

"It's…it's not that bad," Bobby lied. "If you can…turn over…Slowly…" He fought to keep the pain out of his voice.

"Ok," the boy said. "If…If I could see your face…It would really help me…"

Bobby winced at the prospect of Ben moving, but the boy's need outweighed his fear. "Ok…just be careful…"

Ben moved as slowly and carefully as he could, but each shift of the boy's body stabbed Bobby with pain. He gritted his teeth and struggled to not show his agony or pass out.

"I'm sorry," Ben said when he finally faced Bobby. "You're hurt…bad…There's a lot of blood on your head."

"It…It's not that bad…We just have to hold on…They'll come…To help us…" Bobby tried to swallow. He was so thirsty.

"Do you think my Mom is ok?" Ben asked.

"Yes…I'm sure," Bobby said. "You saw all the emergency people…They'll help her…"

Bobby coughed, and a terrible bright red light flooded his eyes.

"Bobby…please…" Ben pleaded.

Bobby fought his way back to consciousness. "I…I'm sorry, Ben…"

"You are hurt…Bad," Ben said.

"I've been…better," Bobby admitted. Through the grey, dusty light he could see Ben's dark, worried eyes.

"Hey…Hello! Is anyone down there? Can anyone hear us?" Faint voices and banging reached Ben and Bobby.

"Ben…They're coming to help us," Bobby said. "You…You need to yell back…I…I can't…"

"Here! We're here!" Ben shouted.

"Keep yelling!" The voice was closer. "We'll find you!"

"Here…" Bobby managed to shove a piece of broken metal to Ben. "Bang this against something."

Ben seized the metal and banged it against a chunk of stone. "Here!" he yelled. "We're here!"

Bobby and Ben heard anxious voices and the shifting of metal and stone. A piece of debris disappeared from over their heads, and light flooded over them. A fireman's head appeared in the space.

"How many of you down there?" he asked.

"Two…Me and the policeman…Bobby…" Ben answered. "Please hurry…He's hurt…bad."

"We'll get to you as soon as we can," the fireman said. "Are you hurt, kid?"

"No…I don't think so…but Bobby…"

"Hang on…I promise we'll get you out soon." The fireman disappeared.

"Ben," Bobby said softly. "There's something I need you to do for me…"

"Anything," Ben said.

"You…you'll get out first…" Bobby tried again to swallow, but it hurt and his mouth was terribly dry. "When you do…My partner…She's Detective Alex Eames…She…she's kinda small…She hates that…She's…She's pretty and has blonde, medium length hair…and green…beautiful…green eyes…" Bobby fought to focus. "Tell her…Tell her…"

"Tell her what, Bobby?" Ben asked anxiously. "What…Bobby…Please…"

"Tell her…I'm sorry…and thank you…"

"But you can tell her yourself," Ben said.

"No…I can't," Bobby whispered. "It…It doesn't make any sense…but…please…"

"I'll tell her," Ben said. "I promise."

More pieces of the building disappeared. Several firemen looked down at Ben and Bobby through a much larger hole.

"Ok, guys," one of them said. "We've almost got you out…We just need to cut through this metal…Can you put these blankets over your heads?"

Ben took the blankets and draped them over Bobby and himself.

"Ok," the fireman said. "We'll be as careful as we can…"

Bobby felt horribly cold. "I'm going into shock," he thought. The saw's terrible grinding pounded his ears and increased the ache in his head. He felt dizzy, sick, hot and cold.

Ben pulled the blankets from their heads. "They're ready to get us out…"

"You…You go first," Bobby said.

"But you're hurt…"

"It's ok, Ben," Bobby said gently. "I'm a cop…I go second…Please…Just remember what I asked you to tell Detective Eames."

"I will." Ben nodded.

Bobby watched as the firemen helped Ben out of the small cave. "A cop…that's what I am," he thought. His mind was suddenly and surprisingly clear. "I…I can't help it…I'm not Dec…I'm not Brady…I'm not the man I thought was my father…I'm not Frank…I'm not a whack job…" Bobby cried out in pain as the firemen lifted a piece of steel from his legs. Each breath was an effort. "I've figured it out too late."

"Detective Goren." An EMT slipped next to Bobby. "I need to get this collar around your neck…"

Her voice faded as the pain seized him.

END CHAPTER SEVEN


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alex hovered as close as she could to the rescue workers. Her heart finally resumed something approaching its normal beat soon after the firemen announced they'd found the boy and the police officer alive. She watched anxiously as an EMT guiding a small, dust covered boy emerged from the flock of workers.

"I'm all right," the boy insisted. "Bobby…the policeman…He saved me…I have to wait for him…" He pulled against the EMT's firm but gentle hand. "Please…I have to talk to one of the other police officers…Detective Eames…Alex Eames…I have to tell her something…"

Alex rushed to the boy. "I'm Detective Eames."

The EMT tried to get Ben to the ambulance. "Please," the boy said. "I gotta talk to her…I promised him…"

"All right." The EMT relented. "But you need to be quick…We need to check you out…"

Ben studied Alex for a moment. "Bobby's right," he said. "You're pretty."

Alex blushed; a lump formed in her throat. "Thank you," she said softly. "What do you need to tell me?"

Ben closed his eyes in thought, and opened them. "Bobby said," the boy spoke deliberately. "To tell you he was sorry and to thank you."

Alex fought the tears that appeared in her eyes.

"Detective Eames…are you ok?" Ben asked.

"Yes…Yes…I'm fine…It's just the cold," Alex answered. "Bobby…Detective Goren…Is he ok?"

"He…He kept saying he was ok," Ben answered. "And he tried really hard not to show he was hurt…But he was…The robbers hurt him…And the explosion…" Ben tried not to cry.

"Don't worry," the EMT said. "They've almost got him out…We'll take good care of him…A man that good and brave…We'll take care of him."

"Ben." Alex touched the boy tenderly on his shoulder. "Thank you…Thank you very much…I'll tell Bobby that you told me what he said…"

"I…I want to tell him…Thank him," Ben said.

"I'll tell him," Alex promised. "As soon as it's possible, you can visit him…I promise."

"C'mon," the EMT said kindly. "Let's get you checked out and back with your Mom."

Ben reluctantly left with the EMT. Alex turned to discover Ross standing behind her.

"That's a brave kid," he said admiringly. "The rescue workers say it looks like Goren shielded him from the blast."

"That sounds like Bobby," Alex said.

"They think they'll have him out soon," Ross said. Alex sensed he tried to convince himself as much as her.

"We've got him!" one of the firemen yelled.

He saw and heard things through a haze of pain. The voices pleaded with him to stay awake and talk to them, but he hurt so much. He was so tired, exhausted on a level he didn't think possible. He wanted to sleep. If he could sleep, the pain would end. But he heard Alex. Bobby blinked, and looked up into Alex's beautiful but worried eyes. Her cheeks were red and her blonde hair, blown by the bitter wind, streamed around her face. Her eyes glistened.

"She's cold," Bobby thought. "She still hasn't got her hat on."

"Bobby…Please…Try to stay awake…Please…" Alex stared down at Bobby. Dust covered him, giving his features the eerie quality of a photo negative, the grey punctuated by splashes of red. Pain clouded his large, dark eyes, and Alex thought he appeared terribly cold. "He doesn't have his coat on," she thought. "What happened to his coat?"

Alex managed to get next to Bobby's stretcher. She clutched his left hand, one of the few spots on his body that didn't seem to be hurt.

"Al…Alex," Bobby whispered.

"I'm here…I'm here…"

"Ben…the boy…" He spoke in a series of painful gasps.

"He's all right…All of the hostages are…"

"Ben's Mom…the little girl…" Alex could just hear Bobby's voice over the whipping wind and the chaos.

"Everyone is ok." She smiled wryly. "You're the only one who got hurt…"

The EMTs began to move Bobby to a waiting ambulance. There was no question about Alex accompanying him to the hospital. As the doors were about to shut, Ross appeared and called to her. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Alex. Hang on…"

His words barely registered on the edges of her mind. Bobby's hand was terribly cold. An EMT started to place a restraint on his arm, and Alex felt Bobby stiffen and saw the fear in his eyes.

"Please," she said. "Does he have to have that? He…he…had a really bad experience recently…"

The EMT looked at Alex sympathetically. "No," she said, and turned to Bobby. "But you need to stay as still as you can, Detective…"

Alex felt the tension seep from Bobby's body. He blinked, and some of the fear left his eyes. Alex leaned forward so that her face was near Bobby's head.

"Ben…He told me what you said…" She hoped that Bobby heard her over the sirens and traffic. She thought he did. Bobby blinked and turned his head towards her. "I don't know what you're apologizing for," Alex continued. "I thought we settled all that…And I don't know that you're so grateful for…But it's ok…And you're welcome…" She gently squeezed his hand.

She clung to his hand through the ride to the hospital. From the occasional squeeze Bobby gave her hand Alex thought he was conscious, but it was hard to tell. An oxygen mask obscured his face, and as much as he fought to stay with her, Bobby seemed to drift in and out. When they arrived at the hospital, the doctors and nurses finally forced Alex and Bobby to separate. She saw his left hand clutch at the empty air as he rolled away from her.

Inside the ambulance, Bobby desperately tried to focus on Alex's voice and face. Her hand felt wonderfully strong and warm in his, and she gave him hope. She told him all of the hostages were safe, and relief all too briefly banished some of his pain and fear. He wanted to ask about the Maguire brothers, especially Rye, but the pain returned before he could. Alex told him that Ben had relayed his message, that she forgave him and accepted his gratitude, and Bobby received another reprieve from pain and fear. He fought to stay conscious, and as long as he had Alex's presence to help in the battle, he won. When their connection was cut, his defenses collapsed. His last thought before the cold, painful darkness took him was that he wished he still held her warm, strong hand.

END CHAPTER 8


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Danny Ross walked wearily into the hospital's waiting room. The last hours had been some of the worst and longest of his life—professional and privately. There were some that ranked lower—or higher, depending on your perspective—such as the day his youngest son wound up in the hospital after trying to jump a culvert on his bike on a dare from his older brother ("But, Dad," an ashen faced Jeremy said at the hospital. "I didn't think he'd really do it!"), or the evening his wife finally asked him for the divorce Ross didn't have the strength to request. But the past hours of waiting without being able to take any action were almost as bad as that drive to the Tate Correctional Center with Alex Eames. Ross paused for a moment to assess his surroundings and noted that two of his worst professional experiences involved Detectives Alex Eames and Bobby Goren. But, Ross thought, the detectives were also responsible for several of his triumphs at Major Case, including the resolution of the Amberleigh case, the discovery of Isabella Harrington's killer, and, most spectacularly, Mark Ford Brady's confessions. Goren and Eames had made Danny Ross look very, very good. As Ross learned something about Goren's troubles, the Captain found he became more sympathetic to and admiring of the big detective. As Ross scanned the waiting room for Alex Eames, he realized he was starting to have a grudging affection for Bobby Goren.

He found Alex, perched on the edge of a couch and staring at several empty coffee cups on a low table, at the far end of the room. Some of the dust from the ravaged bank branch clung to her, and Ross saw several bright crimson patches on her clothes. She looked tired and drawn, and Ross wondered, not for the first time, how exhaustion somehow made Alex look younger rather than older.

"Eames…Alex," Ross said softly as he walked towards her. "How is he?"

For a moment Alex didn't register the Captain's presence. She lifted her head slowly. "Captain," she said in a strained voice. "He…he's in surgery…They got him stabilized in the ER…but there was internal bleeding…"Alex bit her lip. "He…he was already exhausted…He hadn't recovered from…and then he…he was beaten so badly…and then the explosion…How can one person…"

"I don't know, Alex," Ross said as he sat carefully beside her. "You and Goren certainly seem to have had more than your share of trouble recently."

Alex rubbed her neck. "How are the hostages?"

"They're fine," Ross answered. "Ben's mother…Mrs. Mitchell…was close to going into shock, but the EMTs were able to help her…The little girl was fine once she got out of the building…The guard will be ok, but if Goren hadn't got him out when he did…All of the others were scared, but they're ok…There would've been a lot more hostages if Goren hadn't diverted the robbers and got the bank employees out…"

"Good," Alex said. "Rye Maguire?"

"Is here being treated for some bruises and shock…He claims he didn't know about his brother's plans…I'm told he keeps begging for forgiveness and wanting to talk to Goren…"

Alex sighed. "And you know what? Bobby will want to talk to him." She stretched to try to get a kink out of her neck. "I just hope someone appreciates what Bobby did," she said bitterly. "I'm sorry, Captain." She looked at Ross. "I probably wouldn't have said that…It's just I'm tired and worried…"

"It's all right, Alex," Ross said. "Truth is, I feel pretty much the same way…And so do a lot of other people…"

"Do…do you think," Alex asked tentatively. "That this will…if he's ok…They'll let him back…if he…if he wants…" With a shock, Alex realized she wasn't sure if Bobby wanted to return to the NYPD, and that the possibility he might not return filled her with dread.

Ross smiled wearily. "Alex, did you see all of the press at the bank? Bobby Goren is New York City's hero of the hour. In about an hour every member of the Brass that can find an excuse will be here, not to mention politicians."

Alex stared at the floor. "Even the Chief of D's?"

"Even him," Ross said. "Goren may get his badge back without a psych clearance…"

Alex's head shot up. "That shouldn't happen…Bobby wouldn't want that to happen," she said sharply.

Ross studied her for a moment. "I don't know a lot about him," he said softly. "But I do know he lives for the job."

"You don't understand." Alex stood. "He's not like everyone else…He's not like other cops…He believes in all of that business about "To Serve and Protect"…It's why he stayed in the bank…It's part of why he went to Tate…It wasn't just because Donnie was his nephew…" Alex started to pace. "He wanted to…and thought…those prisoners deserved help. He wouldn't want to be back on the job if he's a danger…" She ceased pacing and looked at Ross. "You know something…I agree with him…We're supposed to protect people…all of the people…not just cops…not the department…people…"

"I agree with you, Alex," Ross said softly. "But it's not that simple all the time…or even most of the time…Particularly where I'm sitting."

Alex sat. "I know." She ran a hand through her hair. "And Bobby knows that…It's just…He doesn't always take his blinkers off…He tries to do what's right, and the hell with the consequences even to himself…Maybe especially to himself…"

"Ms. Eames?" An impossibly young looking man with a photo identifying him as Dr. Alan Bridges approached Alex and Ross.

Alex looked up worriedly. "How is Bobby?"

Ross placed a subtle and gentle hand on her back.

"He came through the surgery very well," Bridges said. He glanced at the file in his hands. "But he had a lot of injuries…Some broken ribs…A small fracture in his lower right arm…A concussion…Deep bruises all over his body…Several deep cuts on his legs…There was some internal bleeding, but we think we've got that under control…The explosion blew a lot of stuff into his back…We think we've got most of that cleaned out, but we'll need to keep an eye out for infection…"

Alex and Ross winced as the doctor described Bobby's injuries.

"We'll need to watch for bleeding as well," Bridges continued. "He's going to need plenty of rest…But he should recover completely…"

Alex slumped in relief. Ross let out a breath he didn't know he held.

"Ms. Eames." The doctor sat across from Alex. "Do you know much about Mr. Goren's medical history?"

"A little…"

"We found evidence of recent injuries to his wrists and stomach…"

"Detective Goren received those in the course of an investigation," Ross explained. Alex looked at him gratefully.

"There's also evidence that his right arm was broken before," the doctor added. "Very badly when he was a child."

Alex frowned. "I…I don't know anything about that."

"It also appears that he hasn't been eating or sleeping well recently."

"He's had a tough time lately," Alex said softly.

"Well, he should be getting plenty of rest for the next few days," Bridges said as he stood.

"Can we see him?" Alex asked.

"For a little while…He's still under the effects of the anesthesia. He's in Intensive Care, but we should be able to move him to a regular room in about twenty-four hours."

"You go on…stay with him, Alex." Ross stood up. "I have to get back to Major Case…Let me know how he is and call me if you need anything…anything."

Alex nodded to acknowledge the Captain's words, but she was already following Bridges to the ICU. She tried to ignore the patients, many of whom were tethered to terrible looking machines. Bridges stopped in front of one of the cubicles.

"It's a little frightening," he said. "Detective Goren was pretty beaten up…"

Bobby lay propped up on the hospital bed. His skin was almost as pale as the spotless white sheets. His right eye was black and swollen, and his head covered by a white bandage. His upper lip bore several stitches, and a dark bruise adorned his left cheek. His right arm, encased in a splint, lay by his side. An IV tube snaked into his bruised left arm. His bare shoulders were visible above the covers, and both were bruised, with the dark spot on his right shaped like a rifle butt. Alex's heart bled for him.

"He must be a tough, brave guy," Bridges said admiringly. "I was told he saved several people…"

"Yea," Alex said with a mix of pride and concern. She studied Bobby. "He's so still…"

Bridges checked the IV. "That's the painkillers we have him on…and his exhaustion."

Alex wasn't used to seeing Bobby so quiet and unmoving. Even when he totally concentrated on a piece of evidence or lost in reading, some part of Bobby—a restless foot, a nervous finger, a blinking eye—reflected his rapid thoughts. But now, aside from the comfortingly regular rise and fall of his chest, Bobby was absolutely and completely still.

"Don't worry," Bridges said as if in response to Alex's thoughts. "It's good he's so quiet. Rest is the best thing for him. When he wakes up, he's not going to feel very good."

"I'm staying here with him," Alex declared.

Bridges hesitated. The question didn't appear to be open for debate. "All right," he conceded. "But let the nurses shove you out occasionally for appearance…And remember they're really in charge…They only pretend to let us doctors think we're the bosses."

Alex settled as much as she could in the plastic chair Bridges gave her. She trapped Bobby's left hand in her hands and tried to will him to get better.

"I can tell one thing," the doctor said as he started to leave.

Alex turned her hand slightly to acknowledge his words, but her eyes didn't leave Bobby.

"Mr. Goren's lucky to have a friend like you."

"I'm lucky," Alex responded huskily. "To have him…"

END CHAPTER NINE


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

At first, he didn't feel the pain. He only felt a strong, warm, soft hand on his left arm. But several seconds later it seemed that spot on his left arm was the one part of his body not in pain. A low moan escaped his lips before he could stop it.

"Bobby." Alex's soft, worried voice broke through the fog in his head. He tried to blink, but his right eye blazed with pain. He managed to open his left eye, and Alex's beautiful face came into blurry view. One of her hands touched his forehead, bringing warmth to it. Bobby tried to move, and in the midst of the resulting pain, he realized something restrained him. As panic rose in him, he struggled to speak, but his mouth was terribly dry. For a horrible moment he thought he was back in that room at Tate.

"Bobby." Alex's voice again reached him, this time breaking through his fear. He gripped her hand as tightly as he could. "Bobby…Listen to me…You're in the hospital…You're not tied down…Your right arm is in a splint…You've got an IV in your left arm…"

He managed a swallow. "Please…thirsty…"

"Oh, God," Alex thought. "He thought he was back at Tate…" She scrambled to pour him a glass of water. She slipped a straw in the glass and held it up to his mouth. "Here," she said gently. He was too weak to raise his head, and he couldn't meet her eyes when she placed an arm behind his neck and helped lift his head so that he could reach the straw. He took a long sip of the cool and soothing water.

"Thank you," he rasped. Alex gently eased him back on the pillows. "The…the hostages…Are they…"

Alex pulled the covers up and around him, carefully avoiding his broken arm and the IV. "They're all fine…All of them…You did good, Bobby…Really good."

"Rye Maguire…"

Alex pushed the call button for a nurse. "He's in custody…He got a few bruises from the explosion, but he's ok…"

"They…they need to put him on…"

"They have…He's on a suicide watch…" She brushed an errant curl from his forehead. She dreaded his next question and looked for a nurse.

"Kevin…Larry…"

Alex took a deep breath. "The explosion…They died in it…or shot each other…We're still waiting on the ME's report."

Bobby looked away.

"Bobby," Alex said.

"Mr. Goren," a nurse said as she entered the room. "It's good to see you awake."

Alex reluctantly left the room. She watched through the glass of the cubicle as the nurse gently cared for Bobby. Alex smiled sadly as she realized the nurse was falling under the infamous Goren charm. "He can't shut it off," Alex thought. "Even when he's lying flat on his back in a hospital bed."

"You can sit with him," the nurse said as she left the room. "Partly because I know you won't leave him. But I have to tell you that he's probably going to fall asleep very soon."

"He's all right?" Alex asked. "He was in a lot of pain when he work up…and for him to show any sign of it, he has to be really hurting."

"One of those big, silent, don't worry about me types, uh?" the nurse asked.

"You got it," Alex sighed.

"Well, he's on some strong painkillers. Everything looks good…no signs of bleeding or infection…We should be able to move him to a regular room soon…and Dr. Bridges will be in to see him in a few minutes."

"Thank," Alex said softly. "For taking such good care of him."

"It's what we do," the nurse replied cheerfully. "You need to get in there if you want to talk to him before he's out."

"Hey," Bobby said weakly as Alex resumed her post by his bed.

"Hey yourself," she said and took his left hand in hers. Its warmth flowed through him.

"Thank you," he said as the drugs and the warm glow of her presence calmed him. "For…"

"Not a problem," Alex said. "You get some rest, Bobby. It'll help you."

"You…you…" He lost the battle, and his eyes fluttered and finally closed.

Bobby slept the deep, dreamless sleep of the exhausted and medicated for the next two days. He woke for short periods when the staff roused him for tests, but his longest period of anything approaching full consciousness was when he was moved to a regular room. Each time he woke he discovered Alex sitting next to his bed, and he rejoiced in the sight. Other visitors occasionally joined Alex, especially after Bobby moved out of the ICU. Ross, bearing news and strong coffee, appeared regularly, and Mike Logan arrived to yank Alex away for a few moments.

"We outcasts have to stick together," Logan told Alex. "Besides, I owe the guy."

Alex smiled. They sat in the hospital cafeteria. "Interesting," she said, glancing at a table full of the Brass and politicians across the room. "A week ago they couldn't put enough distance between themselves and Bobby…Ross was right…They've shown up like vultures."

Logan smiled in agreement. "You might want to know…" He leaned forward. "The official word is that Goren was on compassionate leave when the robbery went down…"

Alex nearly snorted her coffee. "Well," she said when she regained her breath. "That might be better for Bobby as well as the Brass."

"Just make sure the insurance comes through and covers it," Logan said. "Don't let the penny-pinching bureaucrats get him."

"You bet," Alex answered. "I bet," she said, nodding towards a young man in an expensive suit who was a member of the Mayor's staff with strong ties to the Department, "a word to him…or her…" She nodded at a female captain who needed to demonstrate some loyalty to cops on the street. "Would help Bobby's cause considerably."

Logan grinned. "And I thought you and Goren were political innocents."

"I think it's impossible to be that in this job," Alex said. "And it's not that Bobby doesn't know…He just ignores it."

Bobby remained awake most of his fourth day in the hospital. After great encouragement from the nurses and Alex, he swallowed a few bites of food. But he was quiet, even for Bobby, and Alex anxiously watched as he disappeared behind thicker and taller walls.

"I understand," a nurse said as she took away Bobby's largely untouched lunch. "You'll have some visitors this afternoon."

Bobby couldn't hide his surprise and unhappiness. "Uh…Who?"

Alex, her arms folded, stood at the foot of Bobby's bed. "Just some political types and Brass that want to get their picture taken with you…I just found out about it…"

Bobby looked as if he'd rather have a root canal without painkillers.

"We'll get you cleaned up and looking good," the nurse said as she left.

Bobby stared at his hands. Alex stepped to the side of his bed. "You know," she said quietly. "This is a great opportunity. All you have to do is ask for reinstatement in front of the press. You'd probably get offered a Deputy Commissioner's spot."

"I don't want to be a Deputy Commissioner," Bobby said with an edge of panic in his voice. "I…I just want to do the job…"

"Bobby," Alex said with a smile. "You don't have to be a Deputy Commissioner if you don't want to."

He didn't seem to hear her. "But…I can't even…"

Alex touched him gently on the arm, but Bobby jerked away from her.

"I…I'm sorry…Alex…I…"

"Bobby." Alex was puzzled and worried. "What's wrong?"

The nurse returned. "Let's make you look presentable, Detective," she said genially.

Alex and Bobby didn't have another chance to speak. Soon after the nurses left Bobby looking, if not feeling, good, Ross arrived with a warning of the approaching horde.

"You can get out of this, Goren," the Captain said sympathetically. "Just say you're not up to this…The nurses…Alex…me…We'll back you up…"

"I'll never be ready for it," Bobby mumbled. "Might as well get it over with."

Ross cast an uneasy look at Alex. "I need to warn you both…the Chief of Ds is in this crowd."

A bitter, weary smile crossed Bobby's face.

Alex exploded. "How dare he! He…He questions Bobby's…And then…He comes here…" She started to pace furiously.

"Alex," Ross said calmly. "This is a good chance for all of us to get in the good graces of the rest of the Brass…I agree with…The Chief is an opportunistic SOB. But the fact he's an opportunistic SOB means he's not going to challenge the rest of the Brass and the politicians."

Alex calmed. "All right," she conceded. "I'll be quiet."

A nurse appeared at the door. "They're here," she announced. She examined Bobby. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

Bobby nodded.

Alex retreated to a corner as the crowd invaded the room. An assistant Chief brought the good wishes of the Chief. A young, impeccably groomed and dress rep from the Mayor's office extended solicitations and thanks from the city's highest elected official. An official from the bank expressed gratitude for Bobby's actions.

"That's kind of you," Bobby said dryly. "Since I didn't keep your building from being blown up."

He responded gracefully and wittily. Bobby praised the hostages' courage and patience and the police and rescue workers' efforts. A member of the Brass—one that Alex didn't recognize—vaguely promised Bobby some future honors. Bobby waved away the offer with the comment that he was just doing his job and any NYPD officer would've done the same. In short, he did everything right. Alex watched him with a growing sense of unease and worried about how much this performance cost him. The television lights and flashing cameras raised the temperature in the small room, and Alex struggled to control her temper. The Chief of Detectives, a smile pasted on his face, stood in the middle of the emissaries around Bobby's bed. He visibly relaxed as it became clear Bobby would do and say nothing reflecting badly on the department or the Chief. As minutes passed by, anyone not familiar with Bobby's history with the Chief would think that he was the Chief's favorite detective.

Alex shook her head. "Hypocrite," she thought. "Two faced…" Her eyes met Ross' warning look.

Having exhausted the political possibilities, the crowd finally departed, but the Chief of Ds remained behind. "I'd like to speak to Detective Goren," he said.

Alex moved to Bobby's bedside and planted her body there. Ross moved to the foot of the bed.

"Yes, sir," Bobby said evenly.

The Chief, clearly irritated that Alex and Ross hadn't taken the hint that he'd like to speak to Bobby alone, hesitated. "I suppose you realize," he finally said. "That I have to put you back on active duty, Detective."

"I though, sir," Bobby responded coolly. "That depended on my psychological evaluation."

"Damn it, Goren," the Chief growled. "Don't give me the innocent act…You know we have to deal with the real world…You're a great hero…I have to get you back…"

"Even if the psychiatrist says I shouldn't?" Bobby asked quietly.

The Chief glared at him. "I think you know that you've received a positive review…And even before that, half of the Department was crying for you…"

"I've had other captains trying to poach him," Ross said, partly to defend Bobby and partly to annoy the Chief. "And I've heard plenty of other agencies are eager to have him."

Alex felt a stab of fear. Bobby might not come back, and she realized that if he left the NYPD, she would as well.

"Sir…My question…Are you saying the evaluation plays no role in whether I'm reinstated or not?" Bobby asked.

The Chief was clearly confused. "Detective, I've just told you that you're getting your gun and your badge back. What's the problem?"

Alex couldn't hold her tongue any longer. "You think he's like everyone else…Every other cop…And he's not…He cares about the people…the civilians…he's supposed to protect…"

"Detective Eames," Ross said softly. "Be careful…"

"I don't understand," Alex said, managing to control her anger a bit. "You accepted the word of a cop who abandoned his partner…Who lied…Who stayed on the job when he was dangerous to other cops and civilians…And this cop…"

"Eames," Bobby said. "You don't…"

Alex ignored him. "This good cop…Who's done more to protect civilians…this department's reputation…"

"He went on a rogue operation," the Chief fumed.

"And exposed a corrupt and cruel operation that tortured prisoners…mentally ill prisoners…" Alex said, suddenly becoming the tallest person in the room. "This cop cares so much about the civilians and other cops that he doesn't want to stay on the job if he's a danger. Even though the job is his life."

"Eames," Bobby said quietly before the Chief could explode. "He had no choice. I broke the rules…And they're good rules."

Confused by Bobby's reasonable and understanding attitude, the Chief stared at him.

"I believe if Detective Goren thought he had the Department's support," Ross spoke as calmly as Bobby. "I don't think he would've gone to such extreme measures."

"You're defending his actions," the Chief said angrily.

"Not defending," Ross replied. "Explaining…trying to understand…"

"Chief…Sir," Bobby said, giving Ross a quick, grateful look. "If I'm a danger, I shouldn't be on the job. Eames is right. I love this job…I think I'm reasonably good at it. And it's my life…probably too much so." Bobby smiled wryly. "But if I'm a danger…I don't want to be on the job."

The Chief stared at Bobby for several minutes. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't understand you, Detective. But I won't fight the politicians and the other Brass. You'll be reinstated." He turned to go.

"At Major Case." It was a statement and not a request from Ross. "And with Detective Eames."

"Yes," the Chief said without looking at Ross. "At Major Case and with Detective Eames as his partner."

"And you'll make sure Detective Goren gets full benefits from his insurance while he recovers," Alex stated.

"You're pushing, Detective," the Chief started.

"It'd be unfortunate," Ross said. "If word got out that a NYPD detective who's just been acclaimed as a hero isn't receiving his benefits."

The Chief stiffened. "I'm sure," he said through gritted teeth. "There won't be any difficulties with Detective Goren's insurance."

"Thank you, sir," Bobby said calmly. "I appreciate that."

The Chief hesitated for a moment, and then pushed through the door.

"Well," Ross said. "Some small victories…Maybe even big ones. I have to get back to the office, Detectives." He studied Bobby. "Goren…I want you back in one piece…Take care of yourself."

Bobby slumped back on his pillows as soon as Ross left the room. Alex realized that the past minutes had cost him a great deal.

"Bobby…Are you all right? Should I call a nurse?"

"I…No…I'm just tired," Bobby answered.

"Yea…I think a lot of people are exhausted by dealing with the Chief," Alex said. She stepped closer to the bed.

"Thank you," Bobby said faintly. "For…for defending me…I need to let Ross know…how much…I appreciate it…"

"I'll let him know," Alex said. She gently touched his arm.

"The Chief…doesn't want me back…" Bobby muttered. "I wonder how many…" His voice faded as he drifted into sleep.

END CHAPTER TEN


	11. Chapter 11

Here's hoping I've maintained a reasonable timeline.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Alex shook the soft flakes of snow from her hair as she entered the hospital. A large, brightly decorated tree, its lights blinking cheerfully, stood in the lobby. There were other signs of the season—wreaths on walls and windows, lights strung on counters, and even a few bits of mistletoe hanging from light fixtures. It was five days before Christmas, and for once in her life—certainly for the first time since she'd become a member of Major Case—Alex was ready for the holiday. She had presents, good presents, for everyone, except Bobby. They didn't usually exchange gifts, except for silly ones, but Alex felt that after the horrible year he'd experienced Bobby deserved something special. She was worried about how Bobby would deal with the holidays even before the incident at Tate. His recovery from his time at Tate had taken up Thanksgiving, but one of Alex's fears regarding Bobby's suspension was that it meant he would have to deal with Christmas. Bobby did little to celebrate. He volunteered for extra duty, played Santa for various NYPD functions (Alex was grateful to learn that until the bank robbery Bobby was still in great demand for his portrayal of the man in the red suit), and visited his mother. This year he wouldn't have his job or his mother and he'd be hurting physically and emotionally.

The doctors were almost ready to release him from the hospital, but they were adamant that he not be sent to an empty, lonely apartment. Alex knew, in spite of Bobby's feigned indifference, that he desperately wanted out of the hospital, if only to escape the politicians, the Brass, and the grateful ex-hostages and their families. These visits zapped his strength. For the politicians and the Brass, Bobby had only to maintain a civil façade and polite manner, but the others required an emotional battle for which he had few weapons. Ben Mitchell and his mother were the first and most frequent of these visitors. During their last visit Alex glimpsed Bobby's face at a point where he thought no one was looking at him. It bore an expression of self loathing and despair that broke Alex's heart. It was a rare, brief view of Bobby's thoughts. He maintained an attitude of calm bemusement; he was quiet, polite, and gentle. The nurses loved him, but puzzled that Alex was his only visitor who seemed to have a personal connection with him. There was no sign of Donnie or Frank, and Bobby didn't mention them.

"He's alone…so alone," Alex thought as she rode the hospital's elevator. She realized that it had been months, maybe more than a year, since Bobby spoke of even a date. There had been hints of something between him and Carolyn Barek, and Alex knew that the end of that "something" had something to do with Barek's departure from Major Case. Alex knew Bobby had many friends, but few were close and many were outside of Bobby's usual circle of contact. Many of these attended his mother's funeral, but even those individuals knew little about his life. Some hadn't even learned of his mother's last illness until the funeral. As they stood watching Bobby at the graveside Lewis sadly told Alex that he'd barely spoken to Bobby in months.

As Alex approached Bobby's room, she saw a medium sized, grey-haired man leaving it. He had an air of authority, and Alex guessed he might be a doctor, although he didn't resemble any of those Alex knew to be treating Bobby. The man walked away without seeing Alex, who watched him depart with some curiosity. Alex knocked on Bobby's door; when there wasn't an immediate response, she knocked again. There was no sound from inside the room, and Alex hesitantly opened the door.

His eyes closed, Bobby lay back against his pillows. He was very pale and looked exhausted. For a moment Alex thought he might be asleep, but she realized tears were squeezing through Bobby's eyelids. Alex took a deep breath.

"Hey," she said softly.

Bobby blinked and turned away from her, but not before Alex saw tears slip down his cheeks.

"I didn't mean to surprise you," she said evenly. She decided ignoring the tears until Bobby wanted to talk was a better route. "I saw someone leave the room. I didn't recognize him."

Bobby hid his wiping away of the tears by blowing his nose. "That…that was the psychiatrist I've been seeing. He's been to see me a couple of times."

Alex felt a chill as she realized the doctor could keep Bobby from returning to work.

"I…I asked him to come," Bobby said with the air of a man making a confession. "I mean…he contacted me when he read about what happened at the bank…and I wanted to talk to him."

Alex sat carefully in the chair next to Bobby's bed. "What does he say?"

Bobby fidgeted with his blankets. "He says…I'm still good to go…Which means it's up to me…"

Bobby's word hung in the air between them. Alex didn't know what to say. She knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell Bobby that she wanted, needed, him to come back. And she knew that if Bobby Goren wasn't part of the NYPD, she didn't want to be part of it either. The revelation stunned her.

"Alex…Is anything wrong?" Bobby asked.

"I'm sorry," Alex said, rousing from her dark study. "I…You have a lot to consider…"

Bobby nodded. "Yea…at least I'll have plenty of time to think about it…I don't know if they're ever going to let me out of here."

"About that," Alex said carefully. "I know the main problem is that the doctors don't want you to go home alone."

"I…I'll be ok," Bobby muttered.

"Bobby," Alex said patiently. "You're on heavy painkillers…You're weak and hurt…You need someone to make sure you're eating well…Eating at all…And…" Alex took a deep breath and entered dangerous waters. "And you shouldn't be alone…not during this holiday…"

"Alex," Bobby said. "You shouldn't have to…"

"You're my partner…my friend," Alex said gently but firmly. "Besides…I may have a solution."

Bobby battled his thoughts. "You owe her," he thought. "At least listen to her…She deserves a lot more than that…"

"My older sister," Alex continued. "The one who married the banker…the smart one." Alex grinned.

Bobby smiled. "Yea…"

"Well, their oldest kid is graduating high school this coming spring…And they know they don't have a lot of vacations together left…And all of the kids look like they're going to have busy summers…So they've decided to take a big vacation over Christmas."

"Where are they going?" Bobby asked. He wondered what a real family vacation was like.

"Disney World," Alex laughed. "My sister loves Disney stuff and she passed it on to her kids…even the graduating one…"

"But," Bobby puzzled. "What does this have to do…"

"They own…inherited from his family…this beach house on Long Island…I thought it might be a good place for your recuperation." She waited for his rejection of the idea. When it didn't come, Alex continued. "I could stay with you…There's plenty of room…We could completely avoid each other if you want…My sister and brother-in-law would appreciate having someone there…The person who checks on it for them would appreciate not having to come by…You'd be doing them a favor…"

"A favor, uh?" Bobby said skeptically. "The rest of your family…You'll want to be with them…"

Alex felt a small sense of triumph. Bobby was at least entertaining her idea. "That'd be only on Christmas Day…maybe Christmas Eve…" She tentatively touched Bobby's left arm, which still carried several nasty if fading bruises. "And you know you're always welcome to come to any of our celebrations…But if you don't want to or feel up to it…You can always stay at the beach…There'll be plenty of food…We can hook up a DVD player…You can bring plenty of books…Bobby…You'll be as happy as a clam."

There was an uneasy silence for several moments. "A clam," Bobby finally said. "Why a clam? They're not neurologically sophisticated enough to be happy…Maybe that's it…They can't feel…So they're happy…"

"I'm sorry I brought up clams," Alex said. "But if you want…I think there might be some clams in the ocean near the house."

Bobby laughed and winced. "Alex…Don't make me laugh…My body can't take it." He stared at his hands. "Well…I've been wanting to lounge on a beach…I just thought that the water might be a bit above freezing…"

Alex's sense of triumph grew. He was seriously considering her offer. "Well, there is a hot tub on the deck…If you didn't freeze getting in and out of it…"

Bobby grew somber. "You're sure…Your family…You…You don't mind…"

"Like I said," Alex said eagerly. "You'd be doing a favor…"

"Ok," Bobby said. "Ok."

END CHAPTER ELEVEN


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

With the promise of someone to take care of him, his doctors were happy to release Bobby. He was still weak and aching, his ribs taped and arm protected by a splint, and under orders to eat properly and get lost of rest. His psychiatrist still wanted to see him regularly, and Alex agreed to make sure he made his sessions. Bobby briefly protested, but Alex reminded him that he'd driven her to and picked her up from her counseling appointments after what they'd come to call the "thing". Alex collected her from the hospital when he was released the day before Christmas Eve. His nurses flocked around him to say goodbye, and his doctors warned him about the consequences of disobeying their orders.

"You take care of yourself, Bobby," a nurse told him cheerfully as she wheeled him to Alex's waiting car. "We always like having heroes around…especially when they're funny and smart and cute…But we want you to get better…"

Bobby's blush was all the brighter for its contrast to his pale color.

"She's right, you know," Alex said a few minutes later as she wove in and out of traffic.

"What?" Bobby snorted. "That I'm cute?"

Alex smiled. "No…that you're a hero."

Bobby stared out the car window.

"The nurses told me," Alex said carefully. "That you've been trying to avoid taking the painkillers and things to help you sleep."

"You know I hate taking anything," Bobby said after a moment. He continued to look out the window. "What with my time in Narcotics…and my Mom…"

"I know…I understand," Alex said. "But the nurses said you've had some bad dreams…and you don't have to suffer…"

Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Alex decided not to press the issue. "I thought," she said. "We'd stop by your apartment and pick up what you need…I packed a few things yesterday when I checked on your mail…My sister and her family flew to Orlando this morning. I met them at the airport to get the key to the house. She said she made sure it's well stocked."

"Alex…Are you sure…" Bobby fidgeted in his seat.

"They're very happy to have two cops housesit the place," Alex said.

Bobby stared out the window. "At least one…" he muttered.

Alex glanced at him. She wondered if he'd already decided to leave the NYPD.

The traffic was heavy with pre-Christmas travelers and shoppers, and it took some time to reach Bobby's apartment. In spite of Alex's warnings, Bobby helped pack a suitcase and fill a book bag with books, notebooks, magazines and DVDs. He chose his clothes quickly, but spent several minutes deciding what books to take.

"Bobby," Alex said wryly. "I can always come back and get more stuff…and there's a library within driving distance of the house."

He looked up startled and then smiled at her. "Yea," he said. "And it's not like I'm going to get through all of this…but it makes me feel ambitious."

All of his activity at least insured that Bobby quickly became too tired to resist Alex's aid.

"I…I need to let the super know," he yawned as they left the apartment.

"Already taken care of," Alex said cheerfully. "He's going to continue to keep an eye on your place and pick up your mail."

"What about your place?" Bobby asked as he sat heavily in her car.

"My neighbors," she answered. As Alex sat in the car she glanced at Bobby. He appeared drained, and she thought he might be fighting some pain. "You ok?"

"I'm fine," he insisted.

Alex thought he was decidedly not fine, but she held her tongue. "At least," she thought. "He's here…He's coming with me…For Bobby, that's a big leap."

Although Alex expected heavy traffic, it still took longer than she expected to reach her sister's house. It was dark before she turned on the small road leading to it. Bobby was silent through the drive, and Alex hoped he might get some sleep. The doctors and nurses warned her that he would be easily exhausted during his first days of recovery, and told her that sleep was the best remedy for his injuries. But Bobby remained awake, staring out the window and tapping restless fingers against his leg.

"It's really far out," Bobby said. Alex jumped at his voice. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's ok, Bobby." She glanced at him. "You don't have to keep apologizing for being here." She turned on the drive to the house. It was covered with the remains of the latest snow. "Ah," she said as she slowed down. "One of the disadvantages of living in an isolated area."

"I'm surprised there aren't more houses out here…with the beach and all," Bobby mused.

"It's a federally and state protected area…Some of it's a wildlife refuge," Alex explained. "This and a few other houses were built before then."

Bobby pondered the information. "Nice for those owners…"

"It can be," Alex answered. "Lots of privacy…great scenery…but it's hard to make any improvements or changes. My brother-in-law has some terrific stories about what he went through to update the sewer line."

Bobby gave her a worried look.

"Don't worry," she smiled. "He got it done…It's a first rate system…All the plumbing is. The master bathroom is downright luxurious."

The house appeared out of the dark and light snow. Alex eased the car into the small attached garage, and they stepped out into the frigid air. Bobby shivered, but still reached for the bags. Alex blocked him and handed him the lightest one.

"Not so fast," she said. "You don't want to have to go back to the hospital."

He stood uncertainly in the cold dark.

"Bobby," Alex said gently. "I know you hate to be helped…And that this goes against your sense of chivalry…But you know this is for your own good."

"Chivalry, uh?" he said after a moment. "Ok, but at least let me have the key so I can open the door for you."

"I don't think this will be enough to make a white Christmas," Alex said wistfully as Bobby unlocked the door.

"Yea," Bobby said as he pushed the door open. "It's supposed to warm up just enough to make this a cold rain. I don't think we'll be spending much time on the beach. You know," he said over his shoulder as he held the door for Alex. "White Christmases are actually pretty rare…even in the northern part of the US and before global warming…Wow…." Bobby admired the interior of the small, cozy house in the light Alex flicked on. "This is nice…It looks original…"

"A lot of it is," Alex said. "My brother-in-law is very proud of it." She glanced at the thermostat. "Good…They left the temperature up…But you could get a fire started while I get the bags in."

"You sure," Bobby said.

"Yea…Just don't hurt yourself lifting any heavy logs…I want you to rest but I am not going to be at your beck and call," Alex called from the kitchen.

Bobby carefully arranged several logs in the fireplace, and a large, warm blaze soon glowed from it. He sat heavily on the large, soft couch. He felt that he should be in the kitchen or bedrooms helping Alex, but the drive and his minor exertions left him exhausted. Twinges of pain started throughout his body, and Bobby silently cursed its betrayal. He studied the living room. The house—really more of a cottage—was small, only one story, but cozy and welcoming. The large fireplace dominated the living room. Large, built in shelves surrounded the fireplace, and they were covered with photos, seashells, and a few books. Bobby easily picked out Alex's sister and nieces and nephews in the photos. Her older sister looked very much like Alex, but her eyes lacked the younger woman's wariness and watchfulness. "But," Bobby thought. "She's probably had fewer troubles than Alex." The man Bobby took to be the brother-in-law was a solid, respectable looking sort who appeared happily overwhelmed by the various Eameses. Alex appeared in several of the photos. She was happy and relaxed, almost always smiling, and Bobby felt a stab of guilt when he realized none of the pictures appeared to be recent ones. "Of course she hasn't been with her family," he thought. "She's had to baby sit her partner…"

His right arm ached. The doctors elected not to place a cast on it, but the splint was still cumbersome and the arm protested when Bobby asked it to do too much. His ribs also complained of his recent abuse of his body, and Bobby winced as he shifted positions on the couch. He looked again at the photos. "So," he thought. "That's what it's like to have a real family…" He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.

Alex emerged from the kitchen in time to hear Bobby's low moan. "Hey," she asked. "Are you ok?" She strode to the couch and placed her hand on Bobby's forehead. He glanced up at her guiltily and looked away quickly.

"You don't seem warm," she said comfortingly. "But it's time for your meds…and you've probably done too much…"

"I…I didn't do anything," Bobby said defensively. "Just rode in a car…"

"For a long time…and you're just out of the hospital." Alex sat on the large, overstuffed chair next to the couch. "I think you need some food and rest."

In spite of his pains and dark thoughts, Bobby realized Alex was right. He was hungry. "Uh…yea…what do we have?"

Alex grinned. "More like what don't we have. We've been left a well stocked fridge and pantry. How about some tomato soup?"

"And grilled cheese?" Bobby asked, almost involuntarily.

"Sounds good to me," Alex said cheerfully. She stood. "I'll bring your book bag in here and you can read while I fix dinner."

His mood darkened.

"Bobby," Alex said gently. "This is easy. I just have to heat up the soup and fix the sandwiches. This will not tax my admittedly limited cooking skills."

"Ok," he said reluctantly.

Bobby managed to stay awake while Alex fixed dinner and to walk into the kitchen to eat. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until two large bowls of soup and two sandwiches disappeared inside him.

"Good," Alex declared as she picked up the dishes. "You ate something."

"I should help you." Bobby stood, but winced when his body protested the sudden movement.

"Take it easy," Alex said. She guided him to the living room. "I'll get your meds…And don't pout," she said as she returned to the kitchen.

Alex returned with his pills and a large glass of water.

"I gotta admit," Bobby said. "I'm awfully tired." He swallowed the pills and drank the water. "Where…"

"Your bedroom is that way," Alex pointed. "A nice big bed with lots of blankets and pillows. It's the one with the great bathroom. Don't worry. My bed is just as comfortable, if not as big." She smiled at him. "Besides, I've already put your stuff there."

Bobby was so tired he didn't argue. "I'm sorry I'm not great company tonight," he said as he moved slowly towards the bedroom.

"It's ok…You've got a good excuse…"

"I…I'd like to take a shower," he said, trying to hid his embarrassment. "The doctors said I could…that the bandages and splint would be ok…"

"I know," Alex said. She knew Bobby had wished for a shower since his first day in the hospital. "You promise to let me know if you need any help. Don't be embarrassed to ask for it." She spoke with a confidence she didn't feel. "And watch out…The hot water lasts a long time, but when it runs out, it's gone."

"Ok," Bobby said. If Alex could be calm about this, so could he.

He moved slowly and stiffly into the bedroom. While the house was compact, the bed in the master bedroom certainly wasn't. The adjourning bathroom was also not original to the house. The tub was large enough for two people, and its jets tempted Bobby, but he feared that even if he could get into it he might never get out. He opted for the large, walk-in shower with its many faucets. He shed his clothes and stepped into the hot water. He winced when it first hit his body, but it soon sluiced away the dirt and pounded his aching muscles. As wonderful as the shower felt—even though the nurses gave him wonderful sponge baths, this shower let Bobby feel really clean for the first time since the robbery—he heeded Alex's warning and shut off the water before it became cold. He stepped from the shower, carefully dried his body with a large, soft towel smelling of lavender, and reached for his T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. He froze at his sight of his body in the mirror. "My God," he whispered. Even through the steam he saw that his back was pockmarked with small cuts and bruises. Only a few of the larger bruises were starting to fade. He examined the bandages around his ribs and the splint on his right arm; all seemed to have survived the shower. The same couldn't be said of Bobby. A great exhaustion settled over him, and it was a major battle for him to get his pants on. He struggled to slip on the shirt.

There was a knock on the door. "Ok in there?" Alex asked.

Bobby hesitated. "I…I could use a little help," he finally admitted.

Alex entered the bathroom. In spite of her confident air, she was glad that Bobby had on his pajama pants. She tried to hide her worry at the sight of his injuries.

"The arm giving you some trouble," she said.

"Uh…yea…" He tried not to show that many more things than just his arm gave him trouble.

"Let me just take a look at you before I help you get your shirt on."

Alex checked his back and bandages, and tried not to hurt him, but he stiffened at her touch.

"Did I hurt you?" Her voice dripped with worry, and Bobby hated that he caused her so much trouble.

"No," he said softly. "It's just lately…every time someone has touched me, it's been to give me a shot or take blood or something."

Alex studied him for a moment. "Ok," she said, hiding her skepticism. "But I'm not going to do anything like that."

"Everything ok?" Bobby asked.

"Looks good. How do you feel?"

"Tired," he admitted. "And a few twinges…"

"It must hurt a lot for you to admit that you feel anything," Alex said. "Did you take all your meds?"

"Not the sleeping pills…I really hate those…"

Alex nodded. "I've only taken those things once or twice…I don't like them either…The doctors said you should only take them if you want to…but you shouldn't suffer…"

She helped him ease the shirt over his head and guided him into the bedroom. He sat heavily on the bed.

"Wow," he said. "This is comfortable." He swung his legs up on the bed. He was so tired that the act took nearly of his remaining energy.

"Here," Alex said gently. "Let me help you." She lifted the covers up and over him.

He slumped back on the pillows. "I can't remember the last time someone tucked me in," he muttered. "Thank you…Thank you, Alex…I don't know how…" He drifted into sleep.

Alex watched him until she was certain he was asleep.

"Ok," she thought. "Ok…Maybe we can do this…"

END CHAPTER TWELVE


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alex was deeply, blissfully asleep and enjoying a dream which involved Peyton and Eli Manning arguing over who got to give her a foot massage when one of the brothers shouted. Alex frowned. Why would he do that? Her feet weren't that unattractive. As the fog of sleep slowly lifted from her mind, Alex realized the cry came from Bobby. "Oh," she thought. "He's in pain…Or having a bad dream…Or both…" She moved carefully from the bed. She was in the kids' room, but the beds there were as comfortable as Bobby's, if not as big. As she slipped on her robe and toed on her slippers, Alex heard another cry from the master bedroom. The cold sent tiny slivers into her skin as she rushed to the room.

Bobby was curled up and wrapped in a tangle of sheets and blanket. "Please," he murmured. "Please stop…No…No…It hurts…It hurts…"

Alex approached him cautiously. "Bobby…" She'd seen him in a nightmare's grip before, but this one appeared particularly vicious.

"No…Please stop…It hurts…"

"Bobby." Alex flicked on the small bedside lamp. Sweat soaked Bobby's clothes. "It's ok," Alex said. "You're safe…You're in a safe place…No one wants to hurt you…I'm here…" She hoped he hadn't hurt his arm or ribs in his twisting and turning.

He jerked and cried out in pain.

"Bobby." Alex touched him gently on his left shoulder. "Are you ok?"

"I…I…" he gasped. His face glistened with sweat.

"Here…Let me help you get untangled." She carefully eased him out of the twisted bedclothes. "Is your arm ok?"

"I…I think so." Bobby moved gingerly. "I'm sorry…I woke you up."

"It's ok. I wasn't sleeping that well," Alex lied.

Bobby rose unsteadily. Alex reached out to help him, and his left arm wrapped around her in an effort to help him stay on his feet. The move threw Alex off-balance, and she wrapper her arms around Bobby to keep them both upright. They wavered for a moment, but managed to remain standing. They stood together, stunned by the warmth both felt.

"You ok?" Alex asked, her voice muffled against Bobby's chest.

"Uh…yea…I…I'm fine." Bobby's voice failed to reveal his turmoil. He loved being in her arms. He was warm and safe. His fears and pain disappeared before her strength. "This isn't right," he thought. "I shouldn't…I can't…She's my partner…I think she is…She's my friend…She can't possibly…I'm not good for her…I…I'll hurt her…I've hurt her…"

"It's all right, Bobby." Alex seemed to read his thoughts. She rested her head just below his chin. "I…I like this…"

Bobby's heart flew, and he felt lightheaded.

"Bobby?"

"I…I think…I need to sit down." He sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Alex sat next to him. He struggled for a moment, and then collapsed in her arms. She eased him so that his head lay in her lap.

"Are you ok?" she asked again. She tenderly wove her fingers in and out of his hair, carefully avoiding the cuts and bumps on his head.

He looked up into her kind green eyes. "I…I am now," he whispered.

"Good…C'mon…Let's get you under the covers…"

She helped him get back in the bed. For a moment she looked down at him. She lay down next to him. "Is this all right?" she asked.

He wanted to tell her that nothing in his life had ever been so right. "Yes…"

She smiled and turned out the light. She pulled the sheets and blankets up and over them, and faced Bobby, who lay on his left side.

"Do you want to talk about the nightmare?" Her hand brushed his cheek.

"I…I'm not sure what it was exactly," Bobby said reluctantly. He wanted to confess to her, to tell the truth about everything, but he couldn't bear the thought that she might leave him alone on this cold, dark night, or that she might leave him forever. "It…It was a mix of…a lot of bad things."

"I know you have some terrible dreams," Alex said gently. "To have a greatest hits version of them…must be awful."

"Yea…Not exactly something you see sold on TV early in the morning." He wanted to talk to her, to continue to hear her voice, but he was so tired.

"It's ok, Bobby. Get some sleep. We can talk some more when you're ready."

"Ok…Ok…" He lost his battle and drifted to sleep. "Thank you…Thank you…"

Bobby woke and carefully shifted his body. His arm and ribs protested slightly, but he moved with as much ease as he could remember since the bank incident. "Where…What…" he thought. He turned and discovered Alex asleep next to him. Only a few inches separated them. Her face was relaxed and wisps of her blonde hair fell in front of it. A smile played at the corners of her mouth. She murmured softly and scrunched closer to Bobby. Involuntarily, his left hand reached out to touch her cheek. She purred contentedly, and a strange, wonderful warmth grew in Bobby.

"What is this?" he thought. "I've never felt anything like this…Something close to it, maybe…But nothing like this…And nothing close to it for a long time…" His left hand tenderly caressed her cheek. "This…this makes me…happy…happy…"

Alex stretched and yawned. She blinked and smiled at Bobby. "Hey," she said warmly. "Happy Christmas Eve."

Bobby pulled his hand away and rolled on his back. He stared at the ceiling.

Alex leaned over him. "You ok?"

"Yea…I…I just…need to go to the bathroom." He sat up and moved stiffly from the bed.

Puzzled and worried, Alex watched him lurch to the bathroom. She raised her body on an elbow and studied the closed door. "Ok," she thought. "This is Bobby. Two steps forward and three steps back." She rose, stretched, yawned, and started towards the other bedroom. "Time to get some breakfast in him."

Bobby stared at his face in the bathroom mirror. "Who am I?" he whispered. "How did I get here? Why does she? Why should I do?" He ran his left hand through his hair. "About work…About Alex…" The smell of coffee reached him, and his stomach rumbled. "Damn," he thought. "If I wasn't so hungry, I wouldn't have to face her." He sighed and reluctantly walked to the kitchen.

He shivered slightly in the cold morning air in spite of his warm shirt and flannel pajama pants. Alex stood over the stove. Like much of the house, the kitchen was small but modern. She waved a spatula in greeting as she heard Bobby.

"I turned up the heat…It'll kick on soon…I decided to be adventurous and to make pancakes." She smiled at him. "I know they're one of your specialties."

Bobby walked slowly to the counter and poured a cup of coffee. He took a long drink of the life giving beverage.

"How many you want?" Alex asked.

"Uh, how about starting with two," he said. "Can I help? I'm sure they'll be better than mine…"

"Well, they certainly won't have some of the exotic stuff you put in yours. Although I do have some chocolate chips…"

Bobby sat carefully at the table. "Doesn't sound like health food."

"It's Christmas Eve. We can be a little indulgent." Alex dropped several chocolate chips on the pancakes.

Bobby stared out the window at the grey clouds and ocean.

"You were right about the weather," Alex said as she placed a plate in front of Bobby. She pushed the butter and syrup over to him.

"Eames…You don't have to…If you want to be with your family today…" Bobby swallowed. His appetite had disappeared, and he began to cut the pancakes into smaller and smaller pieces with his fork. "I'll be fine…"

Alex sat across from him. His mood was on a roller coaster ride. "Look," she said, piercing a piece of pancake with her fork. "It'll be hysterical at my sister's house—that's where we go now that my Mom and Dad have the smaller place and where I think everyone will be—until evening. And I've promised to do some baking…a few cookies…"

Bobby looked at her with interest. "I never knew you baked…"

"When I get the chance," she said cheerfully. "And I thought…you could be the official taster…And help with other things."

Bobby tentatively took a bite of pancake. "I…I could really help you…" He pierced another piece with his fork.

"Definitely," Alex replied, happy to have at least briefly brightened his mood. "And making cookies should always involve at least two people…And you can lick the spoon…"

They spent the rest of the morning happily in the kitchen. In spite of the grey, cold world outside the small house, the kitchen was bright and warm, and Bobby wondered at several points if this was what real people with real families did. The first two or three batches of cookies weren't entirely successful, but this didn't bother Alex.

Bobby held up a shapeless lump. "A mutant?"

"It was supposed to be a star," Alex grinned.

Bobby tentatively nibbled it. "It tastes good…Actually, it tastes really good."

Alex displayed another lump, this one blackened on one edge. "This one's not bad if you avoid the burnt part."

Bobby laughed. "We've invented a new cookie…the mystery lump. I'm sorry, Alex…I don't have a lot of experience in making cookies."

"I usually make them with my Mom and sisters," Alex said. "But when I was a kid, I headed off to the living room to listen to my Dad and uncles and cousins talk about being cops…Used to frustrate the heck out of my Mom…She tried to make me a lady…" Alex surveyed the kitchen. "The good news is that we have plenty of supplies to make more."

"Yea, if we survive eating the mistakes," Bobby said.

Alex laughed with him, and realized it'd been a long time since she'd heard him laugh. She turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes.

"Alex?" Bobby moved closer to her. "Are you all right?"

"It's just…We haven't laughed much lately…I've missed it…I've missed hearing you laugh…Hell…Bobby…I've missed you…Just missed you…"

"I…I've…" Bobby swallowed. "I've missed you…I screwed up things so badly…I…"

Alex watched him slipping away from her. "C'mon, Bobby…No trips on the self-pity express…Let's just keep working on the cookies…You're a big help…"

"Ok," Bobby said after a moment. "Ok."

The cookies improved immensely, but Bobby's mood remained as grey as the weather. He seemed to becoming more tired as the morning moved toward afternoon. Alex was on the point of offering a not so subtle suggestion that he take a nap when her cell phone rang.

"Dang," Alex said. "Bobby…Could you get that? My hands are covered in flour…"

"Sure." Bobby went into the living room to get Alex's phone. "Hello," he said hesitantly.

"Oh…I was trying to reach Alex Eames," an older woman's voice said.

"Oh, Damn," Bobby thought. "It's Alex's Mom."

"Mrs. Eames? This…this is Bobby Goren…I'm just answering her phone…I'll get her…" He started to the kitchen.

"Detective Goren…May I call you Bobby…" Mrs. Eames' voice was warm and concerned. "Just a moment…

"Of course you can call me Bobby," he said. Apprehension filled him. He knew that Mrs. Eames didn't trust him and that she blamed him for what her daughter suffered at Jo Gage's hands.

"Bobby…Please…I'd like to talk to you for a moment." Her speech was slightly slurred, and Bobby remembered that Mrs. Eames had fought back from a stroke. "How are you? We've seen so little of you. Is Alex taking good care of you?"

"She's taking terrific care of me, Ma'am," Bobby replied. "She's remarkable."

Mrs. Eames chuckled. "I know…She's always been the toughest and most independent of my children…Didn't always make for an easy time when she was growing up…Not always easy today…"

Bobby smiled in spite of his fears. "Yea," he said admiringly. "She's the toughest person I've ever known…Bravest…"

"Bobby, she's said the same about you."

He couldn't speak.

"I know you think that I hold you responsible for what happened to Alex," Mrs. Eames said deliberately. "But she explained what happened…How it hurt you…When it happened…I needed to be angry…To strike out at someone…Blame someone…And you, unfortunately, were a good target…"

"It's all right…I understand…" Bobby had the uneasy feeling that he found it easier to deal with Mrs. Eames' anger than with her understanding. "And…and thank you for coming to…to the funeral… and the flowers…"

"That was nothing…I still feel I have lot to makeup to you…I know you just got out of the hospital…And as wonderful as Alex is at a lot of things, her cooking isn't one of them."

"She's doing fine so far," Bobby said. "We've been making cookies…I'm the official taste tester…They're starting to look as good as they taste."

Mrs. Eames' laugh reminded Bobby of Alex's. "You're a good influence on her, Bobby."

"At least a good subject for her to experiment on," Bobby answered.

"You have to let me…to let our family…Make this up to you…We'd love for you to come tonight…or tomorrow…to join us for Christmas…"

"I…It's a family celebration, Ma'am…I don't want to intrude on…" Bobby rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.

"We'd like you to think of yourself as part of this family," Mrs. Eames said gently.

Alex, wiping her hands on a towel, emerged from the kitchen. "Who is it?" she mouthed at Bobby.

"Mrs. Eames," Bobby said. "Alex is here…I'll give the phone to her…"

"Please, Bobby," the older woman said gently. "Consider coming…"

"I…I will…I'll consider it…" He handed the phone to Alex and shuffled into the kitchen.

Bobby poured a cup of coffee. Holding it, he stared out the kitchen window at the grey sky and sea. His thoughts were as dark as the weather. "Not everyone hates me," he thought. He'd avoided all of the Eames family as much as possible after Alex was taken. The few times he'd encounter her father Mr. Eames was heartbreakingly understanding and sympathetic. Bobby's one encounter with Alex's angry oldest brother was cut mercifully short by her father's appearance. He'd managed to have no contact with her mother beyond one brief, horrible moment in the hospital corridor. The older woman glared at Bobby with such venom that he had carefully avoided her for the rest of Alex's time in the hospital.

"Alex," Bobby thought. "She must have talked to her Mom…"He leaned heavily on the sink. "So now her Mom feels sorry for me…"

"Hey," Alex said warmly. "My Mom says she talked you into coming tonight…"

"I…I said I'd consider it…"

"I'm afraid that means yes to Mom," Alex replied cheerfully.

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck.

"There won't be a crowd, Bobby." Alex moved to the oven to check on the latest batch of cookies. "Just my Mom and Dad, my brother-in-law and sister, and my nephew Nate. The rest of the horde will be at my brother's tomorrow."

Bobby stood in thought. These were his favorites among Alex's family, especially Nate.

"Nate misses you," Alex said as if reading his mind. "He's gotten bigger since you've seen him. He's a lot of fun…really into Santa this year. If everyone goes to Christmas Eve services, we may get him to ourselves."

"I…I may not last very long." Bobby's defenses began to crumble.

"No one would be upset if you needed to crash," Alex said. "And you should get a nap this afternoon."

Bobby stared out the window. Alex pulled the tray of cookies from the oven and placed them on a counter.

"Please," she thought. "Please, Bobby…Come…" Her placid face showed nothing of her thoughts. "Please come…"

"You're sure," he said after several very long minutes. "I won't be intruding…"

"My Mom wouldn't have asked if you were," Alex replied cheerfully. "Not even if I got down on my knees and begged her. Which, of course, I'd never do." She examined the cookies. "These look perfect."

Bobby turned to look at Alex. "Yea," he said. "Perfect." He stared into his now empty cup. "Ok," he said. "I'll go…if I feel ok…"

Alex felt ridiculously triumphant. "Ok," she said as calmly as she could. "Hey, you ready for some lunch, or too full of cookies?"

"I'm not hungry, but…I'm a little tired."

Alex thought Bobby looked completely drained. "The doctors said you might not have a lot of energy at first," she said. "Are you in any pain?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, surprisingly…just tired."

"Well, if all that sugar hasn't given you a buzz, why don't you try for that nap?"

"Ok." Bobby stumbled wearily to the bedroom. Alex followed him, and when he sat heavily on the bed she helped him shed his slippers and covered him with the blankets.

"I…I'm sorry," he said. "That you have to do all of this for me."

"It's all right, Bobby…I don't mind…And my family really wants you to come." She gently touched his forehead, and Bobby felt its warmth spread through his body. "You get some sleep."

He was asleep before she left the room.

END CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sorry that this chapter was hijacked by Alex's mom.


	14. Chapter 14

Warning--Saccharine Alert! Also, chapter hijacked by a character.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

She carefully arranged the cookies on plates and wrapped them in plastic wrap and foil. She tied the packages with red and green ribbons before she walked into the small pantry. She sighed when she saw the picnic basket was on the highest shelf. "I hate being short," she muttered as she pushed the step stool into position. She stepped up and pulled down the basket. She carefully examined the basket's interior and exterior, and was pleased to discover it retained no sand or shell pieces from its summer use. She carried the basket into the kitchen, carefully lined it with a clean kitchen towel, and arranged the packages of cookies in the basket. She placed another towel over the top of the packages and surveyed the results with some satisfaction. "In a pinch," she thought. "I can be quite domestic."

A bittersweet longing touched her. At one point in her life, she expected to have many moments like this, moments when she would bake many cookies, make many dinners, and pack many lunches. She wished briefly for a drink of something strong and potent, but the house's supplies didn't include alcohol. Her sister only kept beer and wine at the house during the summer, and Alex hadn't brought anything with her. She knew Bobby couldn't have anything stronger than a soda while he was on his medications, and the idea of drinking in front of him hadn't appealed to her. She walked across the kitchen, hesitated a moment, and slowly opened the door to the master bedroom.

Bobby lay on his left side. His right arm lay carefully straightened on his body. He was deeply asleep, his breathing regular and quiet. For once, no dreams disturbed him. Alex stepped closer to the bed and knelt beside it. Asleep, his long eyelashes occasionally fluttering, Bobby appeared young and vulnerable. Alex wanted to take him in her arms, to hold and hug him, to let him know that she cared for him, that she…Her hand hovered over his curls for a moment, and then she fell back on her haunches. He stirred slightly, and she held her breath, but he didn't wake up. She moved carefully until she knelt again by the bed.

"No," she thought. "I…I can't be…not another cop…Not this cop…Not Bobby…Not this stubborn…troubled…brilliant…good…" She took a deep breath. "C'mon…What you've done for him…How you care about him…" She studied his pale face. "This is bad…So bad…And…and what does he feel? Could he…" Alex remembered the line of brunettes, including Carolyn Barek, who moved through Bobby's life. But there had been none of those since Carolyn. "And maybe," Alex thought. "He keeps pulling back because he knows the rules better than anyone…He probably thinks he isn't good enough for me…That he'd be to much trouble…" Her hand tentatively touched his curls. "He'd never consider that I might be too much trouble…That I might not be good enough for him…"

Bobby stirred and again and moved closer to her touch. He made a soft noise somewhere between a purr and a sigh. Alex pressed her hand gently against his curls, and Bobby smiled. "I calm him," she thought. She stood, wincing when her knees protested. "I know you have problems, Bobby," she thought. "But we can't wait forever…Too much could happen…Too much has happened." She bent down and brushed her lips across his curls before she left the room.

It was a wonderful dream, and Bobby struggled to hold onto it. He had so few good dreams that he fought to remember them. This one, like so many of the past seven years, involved Alex. She was near him, only a few inches from him, and he felt her soft hand on his head. He smiled as its warmth flowed through him. And then it was gone. He tried to find her, but she was gone, lost to him. He tried to recover the wonderful warmth, but it was just beyond his reach, close, but too far away. He moved, and pain sliced at the edges of his mind. He didn't want to wake up. His body still begged for rest, and his mind desperately wanted to return to the dream of Alex. But the pain persisted, and, with a groan, he reluctantly woke up. He looked at the clock and was surprised that he'd managed to get a couple of hours of sleep. He groaned again when he sat up and his body protested the move. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to collect his thoughts.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Hey," Alex said. "Mind if I come in?"

"Uh…Yea…" He managed to get his feet into his slippers.

Alex opened the door, and his heart leaped at the sight of her. She was dressed simply but elegantly in a red turtleneck sweater and grey slacks. Bobby recognized the pedant around her neck as a gift he shyly presented to her the Christmas after she gave birth to her nephew—he thought she might need something extra—and the earrings she wore as something he impulsively bought for her during one of their undercover operations. She'd worn the jewelry before, but for some reason the fact she wore them now deeply touched him. Her hair was pulled up and away from her face, which glowed in the late afternoon light.

"You're beautiful, Alex," he said reverently.

She blushed. "Thank you," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." He wasn't lying. He felt amazingly better. All of his fear and pain retreated from her.

"So, think you're up to this evening?" She tried to hide how much his answer meant to her.

He stood slowly. "You're sure…that it's ok?"

Alex felt a slight irritation at his continued questioning of her family's invitation. "But this is Bobby," she thought. "He's never sure he belongs…"

"It's definitely ok," she said warmly. "I think everyone would be disappointed if you didn't come."

"Let's see how I feel after a shower," Bobby said after a moment. He shuffled towards the bathroom. "Alex…Could I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"I…I'm not sure what I should wear," he said shyly. "Could you pick something out for me?"

"Not a problem," Alex answered cheerfully. "You must trust me if you let me pick out your clothes."

He stopped in front of the bathroom door. "I trust you with everything, Alex."

Stunned, she watched him disappear into the bathroom. "Wow," she thought. "That was definitely two steps forward at least." She smiled. "I get to dress Bobby Goren…Let's see what I have to work with."

After laying out his clothes, Alex waited in the living room for Bobby. She stared at the photos on the shelves and wondered if her sister was living the life Alex had wanted. "But maybe I wasn't meant for that life," she thought. "I had it…" She looked out the window at the darkening sky. "But maybe…in some way…for some reason…I'm meant to be with Bobby…that we're meant to help each other in some way…" She sighed. "But what if Bobby won't admit that…or doesn't know it…"

"Hey."

Alex turned to see Bobby standing in the door to the living room.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring much for you to pick from," he said softly. "I…I didn't think I'd need a suit…"

"You look…better than fine," Alex said admiringly.

Bobby's face flushed. Alex had selected a dark green turtleneck and black slacks for him. He had shaved, and above his pale face his just washed hair was in riotous grey and black curls on his head.

"I…I feel pretty good…at least as good as I've felt in a long time," Bobby said.

Alex picked up her coat. "Ready to go?"

"Yea." Bobby carefully slipped on his leather jacket. "But I feel bad…I don't have anything to bring."

"Yes you do," Alex said cheerfully. "You helped with these." She lifted the basket of cookies. "And there's you…"

Bobby smiled sadly. "I don't think I'm such a great gift."

Alex followed him out the door. His shoulders slumped, and he seemed more like a man about to face a trial than one headed for a holiday party.

"For him, it probably is a trial," Alex thought. "His idea…experience…of family is very different from mine."

There was a comfortable quiet in the car as they drove to Alex's parents' house. The traffic was light, and the weather, while cold and grey, lacked any icy moisture. Their route took them through several neighborhoods brightly, even gaudily, decorated for the season. Alex smiled as they passed one row of houses bearing particularly elaborate displays of reindeers and angels.

"My Dad always says that it takes just one guy in a neighborhood to start decorating," she said. "Then everyone wants to get in on the act."

Bobby looked out the window. "Yea," he agreed.

"My Dad never went too crazy with the outdoor decorations…and my Mom, as much as she loves Christmas, is always pretty restrained," Alex mused. "I guess she had to be, what with all those kids to watch and buy presents for…But we'd always take one night to look at lights…My parents had a great time commenting on how much time and effort people put into them…"

"That…that musta been fun," Bobby said wistfully.

"It was," Alex said. "We'd all pile in the station wagon. My Mom would bring a couple of thermoses of hot chocolate—no Starbucks on every corner those days—and we'd turn on the radio and sing along with the Christmas songs. It was great, even if we started arguing about who got the last of the hot chocolate."

"It sounds wonderful."

Alex glanced at Bobby. He was huddled in the passenger seat, and she couldn't see his face. "I guess," she said hesitantly. "You don't have good memories of this time of the year."

He was quiet for several minutes, and Alex feared she'd crossed a line.

"I…I'm afraid," he finally said. "I don't have a lot of good memories from when I was a kid." He stared out the window. "I'm sorry, Alex. I may not be the best guest tonight…"

"Look," Alex said. "Everyone knows that you've been through a lot. If things get too much for you, you can go to the quiet room."

"Quiet room?"

Alex smiled. "Yea…Whenever my family gets together, there's always a quiet room designated. Where you take a crying baby or an upset kid, or where an adult can get away from the rest of the horde."

"Sound like a good idea."

"We probably won't need it tonight," Alex said cheerfully. "Not too many of us, and the reasonable ones at that."

"This is the first time I've been to your parents' new house," Bobby said. "How are they adjusting to the smaller space?"

"Really well," Alex said. "My Dad says he wishes he did it a long time ago. And it's much easier for my Mom. Everything is on one floor, so she can get around with her chair or her cane. My oldest brother got the old house, so it's not like the family really lost anything. It's working out great."

"No arguments about who got what?"

Alex wondered if Bobby was acting out of courtesy, but she sensed a real interest from him.

"No…My Mom and Dad are taking the route of giving things away bit by bit…So far, it's worked." Alex grinned. "Except for the really ugly side table no one wants."

"Your family…It…it must be nice to have that…"

She heard the longing in his voice. "Yea," she said. "It is."

Alex turned her car into the driveway of a small house surrounded by a neat lawn and well kept trees. Christmas lights covered several shrubs, large Christmas wreaths filled several windows, and a large tree dominated the living room window.

"Nice tree," Bobby commented as Alex parked the car.

"Artificial," Alex said. "My Mom got it just as the last of us left the house. Although I swear it takes as long to put up as it did to get a real tree."

The front door swung open, and a small boy raced out. "Aunt Alex! Aunt Alex!" he shouted. "And Bobby! Bobby came! I knew it! I knew he'd come!" He ran to Alex and threw his arms around her legs.

"Nate!" A woman with Alex's features appeared in the doorway. "You need to get your coat on! And don't tackle Alex and Bobby!"

Nate turned to Bobby, who wrapped his long arms around the boy. "Wow, Nate…You've grown…"

Nate beamed up at Bobby. "I played T-Ball this year. I get to play Pee-Wee ball next summer."

"Great," Bobby smiled at the boy. "I'd like to come and see you play."

Nate's smile grew. "You know Santa comes tonight?"

"Yea." Bobby subtly guided Nate back towards the house.

"Mommy and Daddy said Santa will find our house even if we're not there," Nate said excitedly. "But I hope we get to see him tonight."

"I'm afraid, Nate," Bobby said gravely. "Santa is the all time champion in not being seen. I've never caught him."

Nate stopped and stared up at Bobby. "Aunt Alex says you're the best detective…If you've never seen Santa, he must be really good at hiding."

Bobby glanced back at Alex. "Your Aunt Alex has an awfully high opinion of me," he said. "I'm not that good…"

"For goodness sake, Nate," the boy's mother said. "Get in here where it's warm or you'll get sick during Christmas…You'll get pneumonia…"

"What's pneumonia?" Nate asked as the adults herded him into the house.

"Pneumonia," Bobby said as he took off his coat. "Is an infection of your lungs caused by tiny bugs…"

"Yuck!" Nate declared. "I don't want that." He rushed into the living room, leaving Bobby and Alex in his wake.

Bobby warily entered the living room. In spite of Alex's reassurances, he feared that his welcome might be less than enthusiastic. But Mr. Eames greeted him as warmly as ever, Alex's brother-in-law asked if he'd been working on any cars lately, and her sister was clearly glad to have someone else to entertain Nate. Nate was almost as excited about seeing Bobby as he was at Santa's imminent arrival.

"Grandma!" Nate said as he pulled Bobby with him. "Bobby came!"

Not for the first time in his life, Bobby felt huge and awkward.

Mrs. Eames sat in a large, comfortable chair close to the Christmas tree. A cane leaned against the chair, but no wheelchair was in evidence, and Bobby guessed that the older woman's physical therapy must be going well.

"She can probably whack me with that cane if she wants to," he thought.

"Bobby," Mrs. Eames said warmly. "I'm so glad you came…"

It was one of the best evenings Bobby had experienced in some time, perhaps one of the best evenings of his life. His fears evaporated in the face of the warmth of the Eames family members. Everything was very simple and relaxed. The food consisted of soup and sandwiches and a wide variety of sweet treats, including Alex's cookies. Her mother and sister laughed at Alex's description of the cookie making process, especially the "mystery lumps". Nate stayed close to Alex and Bobby, favoring Bobby with particular attention and reciting various facts and theories regarding Santa Claus and the man in the red suit's habits.

"He's not driving Bobby crazy, is he?" her sister asked as they dealt with the dishes.

Alex smiled as she watched Bobby draw a picture for Nate. Her nephew examined it closely before he spoke to Bobby, who considered the boy's comments with the same gravity he gave to a witness' statement.

"No," Alex answered. "I think Nate is very good for Bobby."

"He's always been wonderful with Nate," her sister said. "Nate was as excited about getting to see Bobby as he has been about Christmas. Bobby's so good with kids. Too bad he isn't a father instead of some of these other guys."

"Yea," Alex said softly. "It is."

They played several vicious hands of Uno, with Nate delighting in dumping cards on Bobby at every opportunity, and, to Alex's embarrassment, several photo albums made the rounds. Around nine, Nate began to yawn, and his parents started to drop hints that it might be time to leave. In spite of threats that Santa might pass him by in confusion, Nate clung to Alex and Bobby.

"Santa knows everything," he insisted. "He'll know where to leave my presents." He yawned.

"You know," Mr. Eames said. "You all could stay…Your Mother said she'd like to go to Midnight Mass at St. Anthony's."

"That would be great, Dad," Alex's sister said. "But I don't think Nate is up to it…"

"Yes, I am!" Nate said, but his argument was severely undercut by his huge yawn.

"Uh…I…I'd be happy to watch him while you go," Bobby said tentatively.

Nate's eyes grew wider, and he looked eagerly at his parents.

Alex studied Bobby. "You're sure you feel up to it?"

"I wouldn't offer if I didn't," Bobby replied confidently. "Nate and I can stay here and watch for flying reindeer."

"Are you sure you don't want to go, Bobby?" Mrs. Eames asked gently.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a churchgoer, Ma'am," Bobby replied. "I'm sure that Nate will keep me out of trouble, though."

Nate looked expectantly at the adults.

"Nathaniel," his father said gravely. "Do you promise to behave? And to go to sleep if you have to?"

"I promise," Nate said and put his hand on his heart.

"All right…"

Nate squealed and dove into Bobby, who sat on the couch. "Yea! I get to spend time with Bobby!"

Bobby winced as Nate hit his sore ribs, but recovered quickly. Only Alex caught his brief show of pain.

"If we want to get a set," Mr. Eames said. "We ought to get going."

"C'mon, Nate," the boy's mother said. "Let's at least get you in your pajamas. Maybe then you'll at least think about sleep."

Bobby stood slowly and walked to Alex. "If you want, you can go with them…"

Alex studied her family for a moment.

"If you want to stay, that's fine," Bobby said. "But I get the sense you might like to be with them…And get a little break from me…"

"The whole point of this evening," Alex said. "Was to make sure you weren't alone…"

"I won't be," he replied evenly. "I'll be with Nate…And, aside from you, there's no one else I rather be with."

"What's going on here?" Mrs. Eames asked as she slowly walked up to Bobby and Alex.

"I'm trying to get Alex to do what she wants to do," Bobby said dryly.

Alex opened her mouth to utter a protest, but her mother's laughter stopped her. "Getting Alex to do anything, whether she wants to or not, can be a struggle."

She fumed for a moment, but Alex saw her mother and Bobby's smiles. "You've been in the house for a few hours," Alex said in mock dismay. "And already you're on my Mom's side."

"I'm not on anybody's side," Bobby said. "I…I just want you to do what makes you happy. I'll go check with his parents to see what Nate needs." He turned but looked back at Alex. "Really…whatever you want, Alex. You can stay or go."

"That's strange," Mrs. Eames said thoughtfully. "He seemed to be talking about more than just going to church."

"Yea," Alex said with equal thought.

"So, Alex," Mr. Eames said. "You coming with us? Shock the priest and parishioners?"

"I'll be lucky if I'm not struck by lightning," Alex mused. "And the rest of you with me."

"Ha," her brother-in-law said. "If I haven't gotten struck down yet for some of my thoughts during sermons, no one is going to get hit." He smiled at Alex. "We've managed to convince Nate to put his pajamas on. Bobby told him that Santa will come faster if boys and girls at least pretend to be asleep."

"Just give me a moment," Alex said.

She walked into the kitchen, where she discovered Bobby pulling a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. Nate, now wearing blue pajamas with feet dotted with snowmen, sat expectantly at the table.

"Bobby," Nate announced. "Is making coco."

"So I see," Alex smiled.

"I've never had coco," Nate said, swinging his feet. "Is it as good as hot chocolate?"

"Better," Bobby said as he spooned coco and sugar into a pan. "It's got more chocolate taste…'Course it's harder to make…which makes it more valuable."

Nate considered this statement. "Daddy tells me that the things you work harder for are the best."

"Your father is a wise man." Bobby stirred the dark liquid.

"Is there enough for me to have some?" Alex asked.

"Yea…It's nearly ready…Where are the mugs?" Bobby said.

"I want a big mug," Nate declared.

Smiling, Alex walked to a shelf and pulled three mugs from it. As she placed them on the counter, Bobby turned off the burner and lifted the pan of coco. He poured the coco into the mugs and brushed against Alex. The disturbing but comforting warmth rose between them.

"Hey," Nate said. "Your faces are red."

"It…it's the heat from the coco," Bobby said quickly. "Here…try this, Nate…Be careful…It's hot."

Nate blew on the coco and took a tentative sip. "This is really good…We should leave some for Santa."

"We can," Bobby said. "And maybe something for the reindeer."

"Carrots," Nate declared. "And apples. Reindeer like that."

"Ok," Alex thought shakily. "Crisis avoided." "Hey," she said to Bobby. "You really ok being alone with Nate?"

"We'll be fine." Bobby smiled at Nate. "We'll listen for the reindeer and keep each other out of trouble."

Nate, coco ringing his mouth, looked up. "I'll take good care of him, Aunt Alex."

They finally left Nate and Bobby cocooned on the couch. "Be sure to send Santa here if you see him," Nate said solemnly.

"We'll be fine," Bobby smiled. "Don't worry."

Nate fought valiantly against sleep for several stories. Bobby told him about the miracle of speech given to the animals on Christmas, about how tabby cats got their stripes, and about how the reindeer prepared through the year for the big trip on Christmas Eve. Roughly forty five minutes after the time his parents predicted their son would fall asleep, Nate finally showed signs of surrendering. Bobby carefully laid him on the couch and covered him with a thick blanket. Bobby straightened, stretched, and winced.

"You ok, Bobby," Nate asked drowsily.

"Yea…I'm fine…You ok?"

Nate regarded Bobby through half opened green eyes, eyes that looked like Alex's. "Aunt Alex said you got hurt…"

"It…It wasn't bad," Bobby said weakly.

Nate yawned. "She said you were a hero…that you saved a lot of people…a little boy…"

"It wasn't a big deal," Bobby said.

"Heroes always say that it's not a big deal," Nate said. "So you must be a real hero." He yawned again, and finally closed his eyes in sleep.

Bobby, rubbing his neck, looked from the sleeping boy to the Christmas Tree and back again.

END CHAPTER FOURTEEN


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

By the time he was a young man, Bobby Goren had stopped dreaming of or expecting a family life. After his childhood experiences of family, he wasn't sure he even wanted one. He occasionally glimpsed happy families. His friend Lewis had one; some of his Army buddies had them. But when they relayed stories of birthdays or Thanksgivings or Christmases, Bobby could only watch and listen as a puzzled bystander observing a gathering with strange customs and language. He couldn't contribute to the stories. He doubted anyone would want to know about the Christmas his mother destroyed the tree because its lights sent out secret messages, or the one where his father left Bobby and Frank in an Atlantic City hotel room while the elder Goren cadged drinks, chased women, and pursued a big score, or the one where Bobby came home on leave to discover Frank had stolen most of their mother's possession to buy drugs. He'd told no one about these and many other incidents; he'd only hinted at them with the psychiatrist he now saw. Some things had slipped out to Alex, but even she didn't know why he preferred to ignore the holidays as much as he could. He certainly never told her about the stabs of pain he felt when he saw happy families, especially the ones he saw at Christmas. It wasn't that he was jealous or that he begrudged anyone any happiness. He didn't want any child to suffer anything, let alone the kind of pain he had as a child. His pain was that of regret or the absence of a happiness he'd never known. He feared that his painful memories would destroy any attempt for him to enjoy any aspect of a normal family life, although, as he grew older he wondered if there was any such thing as a normal family life. Holidays were the worst times for him, but he managed to keep his sanity by keeping so busy that he could keep the darkest thoughts at bay.

He sat in a chair between the couch and the Christmas Tree and watched Nate sleep the sleep of the innocent and untroubled. "I was about his age," Bobby thought. "When Brady…when he hurt Mom…" He rose slowly and painfully from the chair. Sometimes he thought the worst thing about being hurt was that it limited his ability to pace when he needed to think. He stopped, fascinated by the tree's many decorations. Alex told him that nearly all of them bore a story, that her family's history played out among the tree's branches. Something familiar in one of the decorations caught his eyes, and Bobby bent slowly to examine it. The sight of a photo of Alex and him at some NYPD gathering as part of a homemade ornament stunned him.

"Someone thinks I'm part of this family," he thought. He moved to look out the large window. "But they don't know what I am." He shivered. "I don't know what I am." He sat carefully at the end of the couch and looked at Nate. "I hope…I pray…He never has anything to give him nightmares." He reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and pulled it over his body.

"That was wonderful," Alex said as she left the car. "You were right, Mom. St. Anthony's has a wonderful choir."

"And we didn't get struck by lightning," Mrs. Eames said dryly.

Alex smiled at her mother. Their occasionally rocky relationship was unusually comfortable on this night and morning. "I wish Bobby would've come," she said. "He loves all kinds of music…knows a lot about it."

"He seems to know a lot about a lot of things," Mr. Eames commented admiringly as he helped his wife to the house.

"He does," Alex said. "And he's usually embarrassed by that."

"I hope Nate didn't run him ragged," Alex's sister said.

"I hope Nate's asleep," her brother-in-law said. "Or tomorrow will be rough."

They entered the house as quietly as they could. "Look at that," Mr. Eames said.

Illuminated by the Christmas Tree lights, Bobby and Nate were deeply asleep on the couch. At some point Nate had shifted so that he lay next to Bobby, whose left arm curled protectively over the child. Alex smiled and stepped up to the couch. She leaned over Bobby and saw that tears glistened on his cheeks. She reached to swiftly and carefully wipe the moisture away before her family saw it.

"Almost hate to wake them up," Alex's sister said from the doorway. "But if we don't get Nate home so he can open his presents tomorrow…today…" She shook her head.

"And Bobby will be as stiff as a board," Alex said softly as she straightened up.

Alex's brother-in-law, carrying Nate's coat, stepped in the living room. He gently lifted the sleeping boy and carefully slipped the coat around him. Nate barely stirred, his only reaction to being disturbed a huge yawn. He tightly gripped his father's coat.

"Just like you, Lexie," Mr. Eames smiled. "You'd fight sleep all out until you dropped. And then nothing could wake you up."

Bobby stirred, blinked, and looked up. For a moment he didn't seem to know where he was.

"Hey," Alex said. "Merry Christmas."

Bobby struggled to understand if Alex was real or part of the dream that had alternately tormented and thrilled him for the past hour.

"Merry Christmas," he said softly. He became aware that Nate no longer rested next to him. "Is Nate ok?" He sat up slowly, trying not to show the pain he felt.

"He's sleeping," Alex's sister said as she tried to balance several gifts and Nate's backpack. "Thank you for watching him."

Bobby unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn. "It…it was fun. He's a great kid."

"We think so," Nate's mom said warmly. "But it's good to have it confirmed from outside sources…Although I'm not sure you're outside the family." She smiled and turned to her sister. "We'll see you with the rest of the horde tomorrow, Lex?"

"I'll be there," Alex said. "Although I wouldn't expect me before noon."

"You're welcome to come too, Bobby," Mrs. Eames said.

Bobby stared at his feet. "Thank you, Ma'am," he said softly. There was a small tremor in his voice. "But…I have to confess…I'm a little wiped out…"

"Yea," Alex said, coming to his rescue. "Hanging around with Nate does that even to a person with full strength."

Alex and Bobby slowly followed Nate's family out of her parents' house. Their progress was impeded by Mr. and Mrs. Eames' appeals to Bobby to come to the Christmas celebration or to at least see them more often and by Bobby's repeated expressions of gratitude for the evening. Bobby and Alex finally reached her car, and he sat heavily in the passenger side.

"Ok?" Alex started the car.

"Just…just tired." His voice was ragged. "Thank you for talking me into coming. I…I had a good time."

"I'm glad you came," Alex said. "Nate was so excited…You're good with him."

Bobby smiled. "He's good for me…and he's a great kid…" He stared out the window. "And a lucky kid…" he added wistfully.

Alex eased the car out of her parents' neighborhood and on to the highway. The clouds had broken and left a cold, clear night.

"Wow," Alex said. "It's beautiful out…The sort of night that makes you believe in flying reindeer and other things…"

"Even goodness," Bobby muttered.

"You ok?"

"Arm," he said after a moment. "It gives me trouble sometimes when it's cold anyway…It got broke when I was a kid…" He stared out the window again.

Alex gripped the steering wheel tightly. "The doctors," she ventured. "They said it looked like it'd been broken badly before…"

Bobby slumped further into his seat.

Alex tried to concentrate on the road. "Ok," she thought. "No big deal…Kids have accidents…Bobby was probably an active…really active kid…He…" A stop sign allowed her to glance at Bobby. "You know that's not the cause," she thought. "He was hurt…a lot…as a kid. He said it "got broke"…You know what happened." The terrible vision of a very young Bobby being flung against a wall filled her mind.

"Alex," Bobby said in alarm. "You just went through a red light. Are you ok?"

Alex carefully maneuvered the car to the side of the road. She turned off the car and took a deep breath.

"Alex." Bobby's voice dripped with concern. "What's wrong? Are you all right?" His hand hovered over her shoulder.

She turned to look at him. His deep brown eyes were full of fear and concern and love. She gasped. "Bobby loves me," she thought. "Oh, God…"

At her gasp, Bobby pulled back. "I…I'm sorry…Did I do something…" He felt confused and exhausted, and most of his body had joined his arm in a chorus of pain.

Alex recovered, the pain in Bobby's eyes and voice shocking her back to the present. "I…I…just a lot of thoughts…about me…and you…"

He slumped back in his seat, and she sensed him pulling away from her.

"I'm fine, Bobby…You didn't do anything…It's been a long night…" She tentatively touched his left arm.

She feared he might jerk away from her, but he stared out the window for several long moments. He finally turned his head to look at her hand resting on his arm.

"Please," he said in a choked voice. "Please…" The sound broke her heart. "I…I…" Unable to meet her eyes, he stared at the dashboard.

"It's been a long night…morning for you, too," Alex said gently. "Let's get back to the house…" She decided to hold her position. "Get you your medicine and some rest…"

She lifted her hand and started the car. They rode in silence for several miles.

"I…I'm sorry that…that…" Bobby struggled with his words and thoughts.

"It's all right, Bobby. Like I told you, I want to help you…And today…yesterday now, I guess…It was great…Really great." She smiled at him. "Thank you for taking care of Nate…And helping me with the cookies…" She turned the car off the highway. "This…this has been one of the best Christmas Eves I've had…Maybe the best…since Joe's death…And you've had a lot to do with that."

The remainder of the drive was silent. By the time they reached the beach house, the moon shone so brightly that it seemed like day. Alex knew she had to get up in a few hours and that Bobby was hurting more than he showed, but the beach called to her.

"It's beautiful," Bobby said, echoing her thoughts. "I'd like…"

"To take a walk on the beach?" Alex asked. "You feel up to it?"

"You don't need to get to bed right away?"

"I thought you might need that more than me," Alex said.

Bobby stared at the beach and ocean. "It's so beautiful," he said reverently. "It shouldn't be wasted."

"C'mon." She reached for his hand and gently pulled him to the beach.

The moonlight painted dark and pale blue shadows on the water. Silver slivers edged out of the waves, and the few wispy clouds were watchful spirits in the sky. The sand scrunched under their feet and their breaths hung in crystal frost. Their coats and their closeness kept them comfortable until they reached the water's edge. After a moment, Bobby shivered, and Alex slipped her right arm through his left.

"Are you cold?" she asked. "Do we need to get back to the house?"

"Maybe soon," he admitted. He looked out over the black and blue and silver sea. "This…this may be the best Christmas I ever had."

Alex tried to understand how the simple events of the past hours could add up to anyone's best Christmas.

"It's just." He seemed to speak as much to himself as to her. "I've spent a lot of them alone. I didn't mind…Or at least thought I didn't mind…And others…"

She watched as he threw open the doors and windows to his mind.

"They weren't good…A lot of them were awful when I was a kid…" He gripped her arm tightly. "My arm…Christmas Eve…When I was ten…I can't remember what made him mad…Probably a lot of things went wrong…It took me years to realize most of the time I didn't have anything to do with it…" The words tumbled from him. "I can't remember what it was…Frank…He went after Frank sometimes, but never like he did with me…Maybe he knew…He was a jerk…but he wasn't stupid…Maybe he figured it out…"

"What, Bobby?" Alex clung to his arm. "Bobby…Who…What did he figure out?"

He jerked away from her. "And my Mom…Even if Brady wasn't…I know…I know he hurt her…What if …What if every time…She saw me…What if I reminded her? No wonder…"

"Bobby." Alex struggled to stay calm as she moved towards him. "What are you talking about?"

He stumbled and lurched away from her. "She…She couldn't love me…All that I did…She couldn't…"

"Bobby…Please…Slow down…"

He spun to face her. He could see the terror and confusion in her eyes. "You…You're scared…You're afraid of me…Oh, God…"

He stumbled and fell to his knees in the cold, wet sand. His shoulders heaved.

Alex stepped up to him. "Bobby…Please…Talk to me. I want to help you. Please…" She tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. She felt him shiver at her touch. For several moments he remained still, but finally he wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against her tummy.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said, his voice muffled by her coat. "Alex…Please…I'm sorry."

One of her hands wove in and out of his hair. "It's…It's ok, Bobby. I'm here…I'm here."

His shivering eased.

"Hey," she said softly. "You'll ruin those pants. Let's get back to the house."

"You…You're so good to me," Bobby murmured. She could barely hear him over the water. "And all I do…is hurt you…get you in trouble…tell you to go away…"

"That's not true. You've never gotten me into anything that I didn't want to…You've made me a better cop…person…"

Bobby shook his head. "I've taken you away from your family…your friends…I saw…the pictures in the house…All the people at Kevin's funeral…all the time I've been your partner…You haven't been happy…"

"Bobby." She took his face between her hands and lifted it so that he had to look at her. "Those "friends" didn't keep in touch with me, either. The pictures in the beach house are old. You needed to look more closely at the pictures in my parents' house. You'd see plenty of recent pictures where I'm happy…and you'd be in a lot of them…Look…there's times when you drive me crazy…But a lot…most of the last seven years…They've been the best in my life…And you're the reason why…"

She saw the moon reflected in his great, dark, shimmering eyes. He was defenseless, unguarded, open, vulnerable. "You," he whispered. "Are the best thing that ever happened to me. The one good, true thing…"

"I love you, too," Alex said.

He blinked, shook, and buried his face in her coat. "No…no…It's not right. No…"

"Bobby, I don't think anyone expects us to follow the rules." She lifted his face and lowered her head to kiss him.

"No." Bobby stopped her. "The rules…It's not…It's not why…I…I don't know who I am…It's not fair to you…" He shivered and stared down. "The tide…"

"Oh!" Alex cried. She was suddenly aware of the cold water hitting just above her boots. "Bobby…You must be freezing…C'mon…"

She helped him to stand. Bobby wavered for a moment. "I'm sorry…"

"It's ok," Alex said. "You know," she said as she wrapped an arm as far as she could around him. "You don't have to keep apologizing. I want to help you."

"I…I…" Bobby looked at her. "Damn…I was about to apologize for apologizing…God, Alex, what kind of shape am I in? I'm out on a beautiful moonlit night with the beautiful woman I love, and I can't get it right."

Alex's cheeks reddened. "You just said you love me."

"Yea." He was torn between rushing into her arms and running away. "You know, if you don't get to bed soon, you're never going to get up tomorrow."

She helped him up the stairs, into the house, and the master bedroom. She started to help with his shoes, but Bobby stopped her.

"I can do that," he said. "Is there a washer?"

"Yes. I think you could leave your pants until tomorrow."

"You…you can go ahead to bed, Alex…I'm ok." He reached to pull off his shoes, but winced when his ribs protested.

Alex dropped to her knees before him. "Let me help you."

He was too tired to fight her. Alex helped him shed his clothes to his boxers and T-shirt.

"I think I'll take a shower," he said shyly. "Get the sand and seawater off."

"Ok…just don't fall asleep in there." She moved as if to sit in a chair.

"Please…Don't wait up for me…You need some sleep to be with your family tomorrow…Please," Bobby pleaded.

Alex sensed he would never go to bed if he thought she was still awake. "Ok…"

She went to the other bathroom, rinsed her feet, slipped out of her clothes and into her pajamas, and brushed her teeth. She walked to the door of the master bedroom. She listened until she heard the water end and waited for a few moments. After she saw the light beneath the door go out, she knocked softly and opened the door. In the moonlight from the window she could see Bobby, his head raised, in the bed.

"Don't turn on the light," she said.

"You should be in bed, Alex," he said sadly. "Not worrying about me."

She walked to the bed. "If I was in bed, I'd be worrying a lot more about you." She sat on the edge of the bed.

His eyes shining, Bobby looked up at her. "We told each other we loved each other," he said softly.

"Yea…yea, we did." She pulled back the covers and pulled her legs up in the bed.

"Alex…I…"

"It's all right. Go to sleep, Bobby…It's all right." She wrapped her arms around him. "Merry Christmas, Bobby."

"Merry Christmas, Alex."

END CHAPTER FIFTEEN


	16. Chapter 16

So, it's nearly Easter and I'm writing a story set at Christmas...

A short chapter, hijacked by Bobby's anxieties.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alex woke with a start. For a moment she didn't know where she was; she became aware Bobby wasn't lying at her side. She sat up too quickly, and a wave of dizziness swept over her. 

"Damn," she thought as she lowered her head and took several deep breaths. "I shoulda got more sleep…Where's Bobby?"

She slowly raised her head and looked around her. There was no sign or sound of Bobby in the bedroom or bathroom. The faint scent of coffee reached her, and Alex felt relieved. "He's in the kitchen," she thought as she checked the clock. "A little before ten…No wonder I need more sleep…He's up…He made coffee…He must not have slept well…" She sighed. "Bobby…Two steps forward…Three steps back…"

For a moment Alex looked longingly back at the blankets and pillow of the bed. She shook her head and propelled her body off the bed. She shivered as the cold air hit her and turned again to look at the bed. But the need to see Bobby was far greater than her need for rest. 

Bobby, a cup in his hand, sat at the kitchen table. He wore a NYPD T-shirt and pajama pants, and his salt and pepper curls were in riotous rebellion on his head. He stared out the window at the sea and sky where clouds occasionally shadowed the sun.

"Hey," Alex said softly. "Merry Christmas."

He turned to her. "Merry Christmas." His voice was hoarse and his eyes troubled. "Did I wake you up?"

Alex crossed the kitchen, pulled a cup from a shelf, and poured a cup of coffee. She took a long drink.

"No," she said, making a face at the coffee's bitter taste and reaching for the sugar. "But I think your absence might have." She glanced at him as she spooned the sugar into her cup. "You get enough sleep?"

"What I got was good," Bobby answered. He seemed to be in a fog. "But…I had some pain…and a lot of thoughts…" He shrugged. "Gave up after a while and came in here to watch the weather. Made some coffee. I took some of the pain pills, and they've made me feel a little out of it."

Alex walked to him and placed her hand on his forehead. He stiffened, and she looked at him with concern.

"You're not warm," she said with a frown. "Maybe some breakfast will help."

"I…I'm not hungry," he said. "Maybe…you…should get to your family…"

"No one will get there before noon," Alex said. "And things really won't get going for a while after that. Nate won't be the only one of the kids to have had a late night."

"It's almost ten now," Bobby said.

"Wow. I think this may be the latest I've ever slept on a Christmas morning," Alex said. "I remember a couple years where I didn't sleep at all from Christmas Eve to Christmas night. We always gave our presents to each other on Christmas Eve." She sat at the table. "Cheap perfume and horrible ties for my Mom and Dad." She grinned. "There'd be stuff from Santa in the morning, so no one would sleep. The good thing about a big family…By the time the last kid has stopped believing in Santa, it's not too long before there's another that does." She looked across the table at Bobby, who stared out the window. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Uh…Want…maybe…But I'm really wiped out…I appreciate it, Alex, I really do…But right now…With the drugs and everything…All I can think about is getting back into that bed," Bobby apologized.

Alex thought he was thinking about a great deal more, but sensed he was genuinely exhausted. "Well, you're barely out of the hospital. And you spent a lot of time with Nate last night, and that would wear out anybody." She drained the last of her coffee and stood. "I'm going to take a shower and get dressed. You can decide while I'm doing that."

"He's hiding," Alex thought as she walked to the bathroom. "All of the doors and windows are closed, and he's hiding behind them. Well, we got them open last night. We can do it again."

She finished getting ready and walked into an empty kitchen. She frowned and turned to the large bedroom. The door was open, and Alex found Bobby sitting on the bed. For a moment her heart broke. He looked desperately alone and tired. Alex wanted to rush to him and put her arms around him, but as she stepped closer to him, Bobby turned away.

"I'm sorry," he said in a choked voice. "You…You don't deserve this…You deserve…"

"Bobby…Don't kick yourself around…"

He raised a large paw as a shield. "Please…Alex…I…I…I'm so tired." He drove his palms into his eyes. "So tired."

She moved quickly to his side. "It's ok…You stay here if you need to…You can get some sleep."

"It's not just that…It's the stuff in my head…If I could just shut it off for a while."

She sat next to him. "I'm here. I'm here and I want to help you."

"I know," he said after a moment. "I know…and it means so much…" He rushed behind his walls. "But you need to get to your family…"

"You're hiding, Bobby," she said softly.

He ran a hand over his neck. "Yea…Yea, I am," he admitted. "But tonight…I promise…I'll talk to you…It's just…You should have a good time with your family…Especially today."

She started to place a hand on his shoulder, but he stiffened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry…Alex…Please forgive me…"

"I thought." She was hurt and confused. "We might be past all of this…"

"It's not you…It's never been you…It's me…" Bobby leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. "Alex…Are you sure about this? I'm so screwed up."

"I'll grant you that," Alex said softly, and was relieved at Bobby's snort. "But you've got some wonderful things going for you."

When she reached for his hands he didn't pull away from her.

"Has it occurred to you that I might be worried about you today?" she asked.

"Yea." He stared at their hands. "But…I promise you…I'll take care of myself…I'll probably spend a lot of the day in this bed." His crisis seemed to be over for the moment.

"You'll call me if you need me…"

He nodded. "I promise."

"You'll eat? Get something else in you besides coffee?"

He nodded again. "Cross my heart."

"All right." Alex released his hands and stood. "But I'll call you later, and if you don't answer, I will drive right back here. And I'll tell Nate you're misbehaving."

A smile tugged at the corners of Bobby's mouth. "Understood," he said. "And tell Nate Merry Christmas." He wearily pulled his legs up into the bed.

Alex stepped close to the bed. "I hate to tell you this, but he might not notice you're there."

"Not a problem…He should be thinking about a lot of other things." Bobby yawned. "I promise, Alex…tonight…if you want…I'll talk…"

She brushed a curl from his forehead. "All right. Merry Christmas, Bobby."

He smiled. "Merry Christmas, Alex. Now get out of here…Have fun."

She helped him pull the blankets around him. When she turned at the bedroom door to say goodby, he was already asleep. 

In spite of her worry about Bobby and apprehension about their "talk", Alex enjoyed the celebration with her family. Nate and her mother noticed Bobby's absence, but her mother was warm and understanding and Nate distracted by his presents and cousins. Her mother insisted that a large quantity and variety of food was set aside for Bobby, in spite of Alex's protests that the beach house was supplied with more food than Bobby and she could eat in a month. In the late afternoon, when most of the kids had reached the limits of their sugar buzzes and most of the adults were in near comas from turkey and sheer consumption of food and drink, Nate sleepily wandered over to where Alex sat in a large, overstuffed chair. He climbed up next to her. 

"So," Alex said as she wrapped an arm around him. "Santa bring you everything you wanted?"

"Yea," Nate said. "And thank you for the Legos. And I need to thank Bobby for the books. They're cool."

"He'll be happy to know that," Alex said. "If you think they're cool, they must be."

Nate unsuccessfully tried not to yawn. "Was he tired?"

"Yea. But he had a really good time with you last night…"

"I had a really good time with him too," Nate said. "I just wish he wasn't so sad."

Alex's grip on the boy grew tighter. "So do I," she said when she could trust her voice. "So do I."

End chapter


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Alex left Nate comfortably napping in the chair. She knew he wouldn't be disturbed—everyone else in the room was also napping. She walked out on the porch that surrounded the house and hoped that the cold, fresh air would clear her head. Deep in thought, her head down, Alex turned a corner and banged into her oldest brother Mike.

"Hey," he said. "Is that how Major Case detectives catch a perp? Stumble over him?"

There was an edge to Mike's comments, and there had always been an edge to Alex's relationship with him. She loved him, as she did all of her siblings, but, like the rest of her brothers and sisters, she often bristled under Mike's attempts to rule and protect the younger members of the Eames family. And no one in the family bristled as much as Alex did. She'd battled Mike even more than she fought with her mother. From her first bike ride to her battles with playground bullies to her dates with boys Mike found unsuitable, Alex grappled with her brother's efforts to protect her. He was a lieutenant with the NYPD, and had discouraged Alex's ambitions to be a cop, and it appeared to Alex that he tried to block her career at every turn. He warned her against going undercover, against joining Vice, against going to Major Case, and especially against partnering with Bobby Goren. After Joe's death, Mike dropped not so subtle hints that Alex might consider another career, or at least another path in the department. When Alex agreed to be a surrogate for her sister, Mike again raised warning flags about the dangers of her work. And when Alex lay in a hospital bed after Jo Gage's attack, Mike accosted Bobby in a parking lot and was about to lay into the younger and bigger man when John Eames stepped between the two men. (Her father later admitted that he might have saved Bobby from a bad beating. "It looked like he wouldn't have laid a hand on Mike," he said.) Fortunately for Mike, their father also stepped between brother and sister when she confronted him about his attack on her partner.

Alex looked at Mike warily. "I thought you'd stopped smoking."

Mike flushed. "Smelled it, uh?"

"A little, plus the fact you're out here…But I wasn't sure until you told me." Alex leaned against the railing and smiled. "Major Case detectives know how to get suspects to talk."

Mike smiled wryly. "Got me. I'm really going to try to stop after New Years. I've cut back a lot." He took a drag of the cigarette he no longer tried to hide. "How are things in Major Case?" he asked, just a little too casually.

"Getting back to normal…or what passes for it," Alex answered evenly.

"Don't worry about that mark in your jacket, Lexie…Every really good cop has at least one…Hell, I'm starting to think the best have the thickest jackets."

Alex was surprised. Mike tended to be a by the book man. "I bet yours is pretty thin."

Mike smiled. "I keep telling you to pay more attention to rumors. You'd find out a lot."

"Well, if it'll give me some ammunition against you, maybe I'll start." Alex had rarely felt so comfortable with her brother.

"How's your partner doing?"

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. "He's doing ok…A little bruised and battered…But he's been cleared to come back to work."

"Good to hear." Mike surprised her again. "God knows I've argued with you about him and he's not the most conventional guy in the department…But any cop who could handle that bank robbery and get the hostages out…" He shook his head. 

Alex pushed her luck. "And the undercover operation that got me in trouble…"

"The word is that Goren was trying to help his nephew…that the kid shouldn't have been in jail and he saw some stuff…"

"Yea," Alex said and briefly wondered if Donnie knew what his uncle risked to try to protect him.

"Well, I can understand why both of you did it…Can't agree with it entirely, but I understand it. Family is family. Besides, I've also made a New Year's resolution to give up telling you what to do." Mike grinned. "Not that you ever pay any attention to me."

Alex's head swam. "Just how much alcohol do you have in you?" she asked shakily.

"Not that much…A lot less than that night I was a jerk to Goren…Think he'll accept an apology?"

"Yea…any time…"

Mike shook his head. "The thing about that…He coulda dropped me with one punch…But he just stood there…Didn't run away…Didn't try to cover up…Just waited for me…"

"He's not big on the physical confrontation thing," Alex said. "Especially when he's feeling guilty…He probably thought he deserved to be beat up…"

"Well, he didn't, and I need to tell him that," Mike declared. "What's he drink?"

Alex smiled. "Very, very expensive stuff, Mike. This is going to cost you."

"Well, if it makes things good, it'll be worth it." He smiled. "I gotta warn you, Lexie. I don't think it's going to be easy for me to stop trying to take care of you."

"Hey, I need all the help I can get sometimes."

"I do have a peace offering for you in my truck," Mike said.

"You know I don't wear a lot of jewelry," Alex grinned. "So it better be cash."

"Sorry…You know what a cop's salary is." Mike returned the grin. "You remember what you asked for about six months ago? It's late, but I finally finished it."

"Actually," Alex said. "Right now is the perfect time for it."

"Hey!" A niece appeared on the porch. "There's a Trivial Pursuit game starting…Either of you interested?"

"C'mon, Lexie," Mike said. "You can be on my team. Some of your partner's smarts must have rubbed off on you."

It was one of the best times Alex could remember with her family. There was nothing spectacular about it, but she recalled Bobby's words from the previous night, and realized how precious a good time with a happy, loving family was. Nothing bothered her, not even her aunts' concern over their niece's apparent lack of a romantic life. 

"Oh, leave her alone," Alex's mother said. "She's happy." 

Alex gave her mother a grateful look and wondered when their relationship became so good.

There was a steady stream of worried questions about Bobby, and after each one Alex resolved to call him. But she became swept up in another conversation, another game, or another plate of food. She was in her car, heavily laden with food and packages—including the precious one supplied by Mike—when she realized she hadn't called Bobby. "He's probably asleep," she thought. "I'd just wake him up."

It was late when she finally pulled into the beach house's drive. The foggy, dark, chilly, and wet night was a sharp contrast to the cold clarity of the previous one. Alex carefully carried her burdens to the kitchen. She was grateful that she hadn't disturbed Bobby, but uneasy that there was no sign of him. She put the food away, struggling to find a place for it in the already over burdened refrigerator. Carrying one package, she walked into the living room, where again there was no sign of Bobby. She moved on to the master bedroom and knocked softly on its door. There was no answer, and Alex's concern grew.

"Bobby?" she asked softly and opened the door.

In the room's darkness she could just make out a large lump in the bed. She walked to the bed and saw Bobby's head just above the covers. Impulsively, Alex reached out and gently touched the graying curls. Bobby stirred and poked his head out from beneath the blankets. He blinked, stared, and saw Alex. He smiled sleepily and shyly, and Alex's heart melted. Bobby sat up slowly and stiffly and winced.

"I'm sorry," Alex said. "I woke you up."

"It's ok…I think I may need to take my meds." His voice was husky with sleep. He rubbed his right arm. "Look out…I'm going to turn on the light…"

"You don't have the splint on," Alex said.

"The doctors said I could take it off sometimes, especially if I'm careful," Bobby said. He put an extra pillow behind him. "You look good…Happy…Have a good time?"

"I had a great time," Alex said enthusiastically as she sat on the bed. "The only bad thing is you weren't there. A lot of people asked about you. Even Nate."

Bobby smiled. "Always good to be missed," he said genially. "I made the right call though. I've spent most of the day here. Got a little lunch. Took a soak in that big tub. Read. Got some sleep."

"You're certainly in a good mood. The rest or the meds?"

Bobby leaned back against the pillows. "Both probably…and…" He looked down at his hands. "What we said last night."

"Merry Christmas," Alex said, and placed the package before him.

Bobby stared guiltily at the brightly wrapped present. "I…I don't…I'm sorry Alex…I don't have anything…I didn't have the chance…"

Alex laid one of her hands over his. "For heaven's sake, Bobby," she said gently. "You were in the hospital…and had enough troubles before that. Besides, this was supposed to be a birthday present…It's late."

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Really," he said dryly. "I hope it's not perishable."

Alex smiled. "No…just took a while to get it made."

Bobby turned the package in his hands and examined it. "Can I open it?"

Alex grinned. "You sound like Nate…"

"There are some psychiatrists that argue we're all really four or five years old at heart." He grew pensive.

"What is it?" 

"When I was five…That's when I remember things falling apart…Although I didn't realize how different my family was for a while…Last night…I kept looking at Nate and thinking…I wanted to protect him so much…to keep him from never getting hurt…And…And I want to do the same for you…but I can't…I know I can't…Especially if I'm the one you need to be protected from…"

"Bobby," Alex said patiently. "The only person who needs protection from you is you." She reached out and took his chin in her hand. She lifted his head so that he had to look at her. "Talk to me."

"But…but…You'll never want to be near me again," he whispered.

Puzzled, she studied him. "Bobby…What could you have done that would make me do that to you?"

He took a deep breath. Alex thought he looked very much like Nate when the boy confessed to breaking a glass.

"Brady."

"Brady." In Alex's voice, the name became a curse. "That bastard. What'd he do to you, Bobby?"

"Not me…but he...he hurt…my Mom…" 

Alex gripped his hand tightly. "Yea…I figured that."

"She…she had an affair with him…She didn't know what he was…But…he hurt her…and after that…She was really sick…Everything fell apart…I know it wasn't good…But after that…She may have been sick before then…but after that…she was really sick…"

"Oh, Bobby…"

"It…It's worse…"

Alex stared at him, trying to understand what could be worse than discovering your mentally ill mother was the victim of a vicious monster.

"The affair…It started several years before…"

A heavy stone settled in Alex's heart. 

"Brady…He thought…I was his…son…" Bobby choked. "And my Mom…that last night…I had to…I just had to ask her…She's dying…It's her last hours…And I have to know." He gasped for air. "And she didn't know…She was never sure…I always thought my Dad…" Bobby grimaced. "The man I thought was my Dad…That he was the one…Who betrayed…But she did…And…And even if Brady isn't…" The idea was too horrible for Bobby to say out loud. "What if every time she saw me…I was…This reminder of what he did to her…And if my Dad…the man I thought…What if he guessed or thought…Maybe Frank guessed…Maybe that's why they hated me…Ignored me…Oh, God…Alex…All I've ever wanted…I want to be a good man…I want to be loved…Someone…"

Alex seized his face in her hands. "I love you," she said fiercely. "I know what you are! You are a good man, and I love you!"

The pain and fear in Bobby's eyes terrified her, and Alex had to force herself to keep looking at him.

"You…You're afraid," he whispered. "Of me…"

"I'm not afraid of you, Bobby," Alex said desperately. "I'm afraid for you, but not of you."

He trembled.

"Bobby…I trust you…Would I let you anywhere near Nate if I didn't trust you?"

"But that was before…before you knew…"

"Bobby…You're the one who always says…You make yourself what you are…You are what your actions say you are…Everything I know about you…Everything you've done…They tell me you're a good man…A very good man…" She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his forehead. "Brady has no more to do with who you are than William Goren did. You are a good man…A good and brave man who's overcome so much."

He trembled. "You…Alex…You don't know…In Tate…I…I wasn't anything…I didn't…I didn't know who I was…."

Alex held her breath. Bobby hadn't told her anything about his time at Tate beyond that it was bad.

"I couldn't remember…if I was Bobby Goren or William Brady…I was so thirsty…I would've done anything for a spoonful of water…That room…it was so bright and hot…It smelled of piss and sweat and fear…I wasn't afraid of dying…I wanted to, part of the time…But the pain and being alone…The only thing…the only thing I could hold on to was you…but…at some point…I didn't know if you were real…" The words flooded from him. "I knew it would be bad…but I didn't know…I wasn't anything in there…All I knew…I could do…It didn't matter…I wasn't even a thing…I…And I hurt you…Maybe…Maybe I am crazy…"

"Bobby! You are not crazy!" Alex pulled his head to hers. "I know what you are. I'm real…I'm here with you." She searched for a way to reach him. "Here…" She handed the package to him. "Open this…"

"What…"

"Please…Open it…"

Bobby numbly fumbled with the wrappings. They fell away to reveal a box slightly smaller than a shoe box. Bobby lifted the lid and gasped. He carefully and reverently pulled a wooden box out.

"It's beautiful," he whispered.

It was about the size of the box that held it. The deep cinnamon colored wood glowed from its high polish and felt smooth in Bobby's hands. The top bore an intricately detailed carving of a NYPD detectives' shield. With a start, Bobby saw that it carried his badge number.

"Alex…" He could barely speak. "It's…the work that went into this…The quality of the wood…"

"Here." Alex pointed to a latch. "Open it."

He opened the box, and a choked sound, something between a surprised gasp and a cry, came from Bobby. The box's interior was lined with a soft, rich velvet, and was divided into several small spaces. One of the middle spaces held a brightly colored ceramic blob with bright red ribbons attached to it. Written on the blob in a child's printed letter was the word "HERO".

"Mike made the box," Alex said, pleased she could keep her voice calm. "He's very good at woodworking. He enjoyed carving the shield. Said it was tough and challenging. The medal is from Nate, who's pretty good at making medals for his age." Alex smiled. "I know you have all these medals and no place to put them. I thought this might take care of that."

Bobby tenderly touched the homemade medal. "This one…It's worth all of the others put together…You…You said your brother Mike made this? But he…I thought…"

"His opinion of you has…"Alex chose her words carefully. "Evolved." She held Bobby's hands. "Nate knows what you are…Mike's learning."

Bobby placed the medal back in the box, shut the box, and carefully placed it on the bedside table.

"Have you decided," Alex asked hesitantly. "If you're coming back?"

Bobby looked at her with confusion. "Coming back where?"

"Work…the Department…Major Case…"

"Of course," Bobby said, although he had just made the decision. "If only to annoy the Chief of Ds…From what you've been telling me, he's the only one who doesn't want me. It's going to be hard…the two of us…I don't want to come back if I can't work with you."

"And I don't want to be there without you." Alex leaned forward and brushed her lips against his curls.

It wasn't that a dam broke as much as they simply flowed with a river's current. There was nothing frantic or desperate about their caresses and kisses. They were gentle and curious. Neither Bobby nor Alex knew who removed whose clothing; neither knew who touched the other first; neither spoke. They had said everything they could to each other. They were lost in the joy of discovering each other. Bobby thrilled to Alex's soft, smooth skin and her gentle coos of pleasure. Alex reveled in Bobby's large, strong, hands and his large, full lips. Both moved with great care and tenderness. Bobby feared he might hurt Alex, and Alex knew Bobby still suffered physically from his wounds. They each wanted to savor their first moments together, to remember every sensation. When Bobby began to join his body to hers, he looked into Alex's eyes, and even before they were together physically, they were one.

They lay dazed, neither sure where one started and the other ended. Bobby's bulk was comfortable and warm over Alex. He wanted to remain draped over her forever, but as he returned from the heaven she'd taken him to, he feared he was crushing her. Bobby turned slowly on his side, taking Alex with him. He tenderly touched her face, seeking assurance that she was real. For several moments they held each other, not daring to speak. Bobby blinked, and tears fell down his cheeks. They were the first in a flood, and Alex pulled his head to her breasts as he sobbed. She rubbed his back in gentle circles until his cries eased, stopped, and he fell asleep. She soon followed him. 

The dull pain nudged at the edge of his mind. It wasn't bad, certainly not as bad as many pains he'd suffered in his life, but it was enough to wake up Bobby. For several moments he thought he was dreaming. As he realized he really was nesting in Alex's arms, with his head on her naked body, Bobby was overwhelmed by joy and love, and he couldn't breath. When he recovered, he carefully raised his body and tried not to wince as his right arm complained at the action. Alex stirred, frowned, and reached for him. Bobby slipped a pillow in her arms, and this seemed to placate her.

"She misses me…She wants me," Bobby thought. He shivered from both the cool air and his thoughts. He moved stiffly to the bathroom. When he returned, he stood by the bed. Alex lay with the faint light painting shadows on her face. Her hair splayed over her pillow like a golden halo, and she was the most beautiful thing Bobby had ever seen. "And she loves me," he thought. "She's so good…If she loves me, there must be something good about me." He carefully slipped into the bed and under the covers. He pulled the pillow from Alex and slipped it behind him. Alex stirred again and moved to curl up on his chest. His hear soared.

When Alex woke, she found she rested on Bobby's chest. It was a comfortable place to be, especially with the soft flannel sheets against her back and Bobby's warm skin and fine hair against her front. She didn't move for several moments and realized that a large, strong, tender hand was making light circles on her back and that Bobby was repeating her moves of the moments before they fell asleep. She raised her head, and in the pale light she saw Bobby's great, dark eyes looking at her. Her own eyes filled with tears; she blinked, and they fell down her cheeks.

"Hey." Bobby's thumb tenderly wiped away the tears on her cheeks. "Are you ok?" Anxiety edged into his voice. "I…I didn't hurt you…"

"No…No…It…It was wonderfully, Bobby. Wonderful." Alex wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's just…" She raised her body so that she rested on her folded arms on his chest. "You were looking at me with so much…So much love and care…It was a little too much for me."

Bobby smiled at her, and Alex's heart soared. "Yea…last night…It was a little too much for me…It…It meant so much…" He swallowed. "I love you so much…"

Alex kissed him on the nose. As she settled back on his chest, she saw the small box on the table. 

"You liked your present?" she asked.

"I loved both my presents," Bobby answered. "I only wish I had something for you."

"You gave me a great gift," Alex said.

"What?"

"You." And she kissed him again.

END


End file.
